Dark Waltz
by A Murmured Silhouette
Summary: [ABANDONED] They weren't friends, but they weren't enemies. They weren't anythings, really. And yet one winter, Draco and Hermione couldn't stay away from each other.
1. Concerning Dreams

**Chapter One**

**Concerning Dreams**

Hermione sat up in bed, sweating.  She bit her lip and nervously glanced around the room, comforted by the sounds of the other girls sleeping, as slowly her breathing eased and she was able to lie back down.  

          She'd had one of those dreams again.  She'd seen his pale, pointed face and haunting steel blue-gray eyes in her mind's eye every night for over three weeks now, and every night she woke up in precisely this fashion.  The dreams were never exactly the same, but they never really changed.  

          Every night they were alone in the corridor just around the corner from Gryffindor tower.  Every night she heard his voice whisper, "Hermione…I'm waiting…" and every night she went to him.  Every night his face shone in the moonlight that had seeped in through the windows, and every night his piercing eyes were alight with an emotion she'd never seen in him.  She'd never seen him show any emotions.  Every night he did something to her heart, mind, and body that no one had ever done before.  Every night she woke up in a cold sweat, fearing that it had actually happened and yet wanting to cry when she discovered nothing had.  Every night she hated herself for having those dreams and those thoughts and wondered what Harry and Ron would say if they knew.  

          They couldn't know.  

          Hermione wiggled down underneath her blankets, deep in thought.  She supposed it started on the day of the last Hogsmeade trip.  Much to Harry and Ron's dismay, she'd stayed behind that day to catch up on some reading….

          _"Let's see," Hermione said to herself as she ran a finger down the line of books.  "What did Madame Pince say?  In section 10, row 18…well, I'm there.  Hmm…she said it was a thick book with a red-and-brown cover."_

_          She looked at all the books around her and sighed in frustration.  "Now _that_ won't be too hard to find, only every three books looks like that!"  She checked a note in the pocket of her robe, which had the book's title on it: The Ultimate Advanced Guide to Transfiguration: Animagus Edition.  She sighed again and resumed looking.  She didn't exactly want to be an Animagus, even though technically she was eligible and it would be terribly fascinating.  She just wanted to know how it was done.  _

_          She jumped, startled, when she heard someone cough loudly in the row behind hers, disrupting the peaceful silence.  Peering around the corner, she came face to face with the last person she wanted to see: Draco Malfoy.  _

_          "What are you doing here?" she asked sourly._

_          He returned her glare with one just as icy.  "I _was_ looking for a book, half-wit, same as you," he snapped.  Snatching a random book from the shelf in front of him, he added quickly, "but I've found it, so goodbye."_

_          She crossed her arms.  "You did not," she said.  "I'm not stupid, you know."  Seeing that he was about to make another snide comment, she hurried in with, "That was entirely rhetorical." _

_          His eyes flashed.  "Shut up, Mudblood, I'll say whatever I want," he said stoutly, sounding very much like a small child; one who hadn't gotten his way. _

_          Hermione tensed.  It was amazing to her that she could hate someone so much.  She didn't understand how he could be so cold and virtually heartless, but after six years she was more or less used to it.  She glanced up and the title of the book she was looking for jumped out at her.  _Figures_, she thought.  _

_          Grabbing it, she smiled tight-lipped at Draco.  "Well, Malfoy, I have found _my_ book, and so I'll be going now.  Have a nice day."_

_          She threw her rucksack down on her favorite table towards the back of the library and sat down in a huff.  He made her so tense, and that was the last thing she needed.  With five weeks to Christmas and mid-terms coming up fast, Hermione was surprised she took it upon herself to spend even one day reading for pleasure, as she was doing then.  How anyone could go to Hogsmeade with less than five weeks to examinations, she didn't know, but being as most people were gone, it made for a nice quiet atmosphere; something no one at Hogwarts got a lot of.  _

_          Opening the book and losing herself in the world of the written word, Hermione barely heard the boy who sat down at the table next to hers sigh.  She didn't see that he looked a little lonely and disheartened, and she didn't know that when he thought he was alone was the only time he ever let his normally unfaltering guard down._

_          She did, however, look up when she heard him cough again.  "What are you doing back here, Malfoy?  I thought you'd left," she said grumpily._

_          "Well, I didn't," he said, his eyes never leaving his book.  "I thought I was allowed to be back here too, or is there some 'Mudbloods Only' sign I happened to miss?  If that's the case, I'll move at once, I don't want to submerge myself in any more filth than I have to."_

_Hermione scowled.  As much as she tried not to let him get to her, it was so hard sometimes.  "Please just leave me alone, Malfoy."_

_          "Huh, that's funny."  He leaned back in his chair, smirking.  "If I recall correctly, it was you who initiated this lovely conversation in the first place." _

_          She blushed; he was right.  "That doesn't matter," she said awkwardly.  "Hey…where are Crabbe and Goyle?  Shouldn't you be in Hogsmeade with the rest of the Prat Brigade, I mean your friends?" _

_          Draco's faced darkened.  "They're _not_ my friends," he said sharply, and immediately looked as though he regretted what he'd just said._

_          Hermione raised an eyebrow.  "Oh?" she said curiously.  "But you're with them all the time.  You're rarely seen without them, and vice versa.  How can you say they're not your friends?"_

_          "I _hang out_ with them, yes," he replied, his usually cold eyes different somehow, "but they're not my friends.  They don't know me, not really, and I don't want them to.  I have no friends.  I don't need friends."  When Hermione opened her mouth to speak he snapped, "Don't dare press the matter, Granger.  I'm not in the mood."_

_          She nodded silently and went back to her book, but suddenly she couldn't stay focused.  Every so often her eyes drifted over to where Malfoy sat, and she bit her lower lip thinking how sad and lonely he looked.  It was so unlike him.  Hermione couldn't believe that this forlorn, vulnerable-looking boy—man now, really, for at sixteen he'd certainly grown up—was _Draco Malfoy_, who was always so confident to the point of arrogance and cockiness, and who she'd hated since she was only eleven years old. _

_          Neither of them spoke after that, not to each other or anyone else, and Hermione felt so odd and distracted that she had to leave.  That was the night the dreams started._

Hermione sighed, no sleepier than she'd been before she started thinking about that day.  Since then, she and Draco hadn't spoken to each other any more than was normal for them (i.e. in Gryffindor/Slytherin classes such as Potions he would call her a know-it-all or a Mudblood, and she would call him a prat and make him feel like an idiot), even though she caught herself looking at him when she wasn't supposed to, sometimes.  

          _Then again, I'm not ever supposed to look at him, not really, she reminded herself.  _

          With a jolt, she remembered that he'd been looking at her, too.  Not exactly in the way she'd been looking at him, which she supposed to was in an ogling stupor unfortunately similar to the look Pansy Parkinson always gave him, but more curiously, as though he were terribly intrigued with her.  He always looked away the moment Hermione caught him, but why wouldn't he?  He did hate her, after all. 

          She leaned over and checked the time on her wristwatch.  5:42.  Even if she could fall back to sleep, she'd never wake up in time for breakfast and classes, so she grabbed her book—Travels Through Time, which was incredibly enthralling even if the wizard who wrote it turned out to be insane and was currently locked up at St. Mungo's—and headed out to the common room.  

Hermione looked around, thinking how peaceful everything was at that hour.  A dim, cozy light was cast over the entire room, making it look all the more inviting.  All that was left of the fire were glowing orange embers, and a light snow was falling outside.

She must have fallen asleep at one point, because the next thing she knew, two large figures were standing over her, one of which was shaking her awake.

"Hermione, come on, it's time for breakfast," the voice was saying.  She cracked her eyes open; it was of course Harry and Ron, and Harry who had been doing the waking.

"What?  Why am I…oh," Hermione said groggily, rubbing her eyes and sitting up.  Lifting her arms over her head in a yawning stretch, she realized she was still in her pajamas and blushed…her top rose when she stretched, exposing her middle.  She glanced up at Harry and Ron; Harry was looking everywhere but at Hermione and Ron was blushing so hard he looked like a flaming tomato.  "I'll just…go change," she said quickly, hurrying up to her dormitory, deep in thought.

          She, Harry, and Ron were still as close as ever, but since the beginning of the school year they'd been very conscious of the fact that they didn't look like children anymore.

          Hermione couldn't honestly say that she was very attracted to either Harry or Ron, as much as she loved them. In some ways, she almost wanted to be, but she felt like she knew them too well.  Either way, it had come as quite a shock to her when she saw them both at King's Cross for the first time since school had let out at the end of June.  

Harry had shot up in height, suddenly towering over Hermione's five feet, five inches, and his muscles were hard from all his Quidditch training.  He no longer looked messy and boyish, but sort of scruffy and rugged, and his already striking features seemed even more attractive.

Ron had also changed a lot over the summer.  He'd filled out a little, and while he was still on the lanky side, he wasn't so skinny and gangly anymore.  His face had grown up as well, and he now very closely resembled his handsome older brothers Fred and George.

However, Hermione's shock at seeing Harry and Ron as men for the first time was nothing compared to their surprise when they saw her.  Neither of them could believe that the slender, shapely woman they met at King's Cross in September was really Hermione.  Even so, aside from finally obtaining curves, she didn't think she'd changed as drastically as either of them.  She still felt like her little-girl self in many ways.  Her wavy hair was still a pain, and while compared to photographs of herself when she first started at Hogwarts she looked a lot older, nothing about her was really that different.  

Or at least, she didn't think so.  Behind her watch, however, boys all over school were taking notice of the beautiful woman Hermione had blossomed into.

Including Draco Malfoy.

*~*~*~*

"If you intend on staying at Hogwarts over the Christmas Holiday, you must inform the school as quickly as possible.  There is a sheet in the Great Hall for anyone who is staying to sign, and we would like you to do so sooner rather than later," Professor Dumbledore said at the end of breakfast.

Hermione looked at her two best friends, who were still shoveling food into their mouths.  "Honestly, boys," she said with mild disgust, "one day you both are going to explode…and probably expect _me_ to fix it!"

Ron washed down his sausage with a gulp of pumpkin juice and said, "Well of course, you're the smart one.  What else are you good for?"

Harry elbowed Ron in the ribs and shook his head.  "I, for one, have every intention of staying whole.  Although, exploding _would get me out of summers with the Dursleys," he said brightly.  "Ron, pass me another scone!"_

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "What about Christmas?" she said over their chewing.  "Are either of you planning on staying?"

"Actually, Mum wants me and Ginny home for the holidays this year," Ron said.  "Because everyone else is going to be home, and she said it would be odd with only me and Ginny missing."

Hermione nodded.  "What about you, Harry?"

Harry looked up at her and grinned sheepishly.  "Um…Cho invited me to spend Christmas with her and her family," he said.  Hermione raised an eyebrow; Harry and Cho had been seeing each other seriously since the beginning of the school year, but she hadn't realized it was _that _serious.  

Ron sputtered, spewing pumpkin juice all over the table ("RON! I've just had these robes cleaned!" Hermione yelled), and nudged Harry.  "Way to go, mate," he said, winking. 

Harry blushed.  "It's not like that," he protested, but to no avail.  Ron was already spouting out all the sullied versions of Christmas carols he could think of, most of which hinted at mistletoe, a fireplace, and a nice warm bed for two. 

"What are your plans, Hermione?" Harry asked loudly, trying to block out Ron's singing (several people sitting around them were giving him odd looks, but he showed no signs of stopping).

"Well, I've stayed at school over the holidays almost every other year, and my parents figured this year would be no different, so they booked a trip to Greece," Hermione admitted.  "So I sort of have to stay here."

Harry's face fell.  "Oh…I don't want you staying here all alone," he said.  "I'll tell Cho I can't make it."

"No!" Ron said quickly.  "You can't do that!"

Harry frowned.  "Yes, I can."

"Don't you dare, Harry," Hermione said sternly.  "I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself.  Besides, I won't be too lonely, there are always people who stay.  Well, except for during our third year, but they had good reason not to then…the whole business with Sirius and everything." 

He nodded skeptically.  "I suppose so," he said, "And I do really want to go with Cho"—("I'll bet you do," Ron muttered)—"so…just as long as you'll be okay here without us."

"I will be fine," she assured him.  She exasperatedly looked at Ron, who had begun to act out the racy carols.  "Honestly, Ron, don't you have any dignity at all?  People are staring, you know."  


	2. Library Interlude

**Author's Note: Wow, I really wasn't expecting such a warm response! Thank you so much to those who reviewed, I really appreciate it. I'm so glad you like the story! I'm sorry this chapter is a little short, but the others will be much longer. Thanks again!**

**Chapter Two**

**Library Interlude**

Hermione looked out the window of her dormitory.  The moon was almost directly above the school; when she'd first sat down by the window it was just rising.  Instead of falling into a dead slumber and having the unnerving dreams, as usual, she couldn't sleep at all.  Sighing and realizing she wasn't going to sleep that night, she put on her cloak and headed to the library.  

_Going out of your common room after lights-out is restricted,_ the reasonable part of her mind said, but she pushed it away.  She was bored and without reading material, and no chance of falling asleep anytime soon.

"Part of the reason I'm not sleeping well—er, at all—is probably because of examinations," she muttered under her breath as she walked briskly through the dimly lit hallways of her beloved school.  "It's probably just nerves…I have Transfiguration the day after tomorrow, don't I?  Yes…and then all the rest come straight afterwards."

_No_, argued the annoying reasonable part of her mind she was trying to ignore,_ you can't sleep because you've been thinking about him_ again.  __

Hermione scowled in spite of herself.  True, there'd been another encounter just two days before (ignoring both of their protests, Professor Snape had paired them together during their last class, and they had almost gotten along), but it meant nothing.  He meant nothing, not to her anyway.  Just because his smirk was suddenly charming and their verbal duels seemed to be more joking than serious as of late, that didn't mean anything.  _I'm just desperate, she thought as she entered her beloved library.  __The pickings seem awfully slim these days, that's all. _

Hermione jumped back and put her hand on her heart when she saw a certain blond Slytherin soundlessly come out of the shadows.

"Draco, don't _do that!" she exclaimed, her heart racing.  "You look like a vampire or something; you nearly scared me to death!"_

"Aww, poor little Mudblood's scared of the big, bad, vampires," Malfoy said callously in a mocking baby voice.  After a moment's pause, he frowned.  "You called me Draco."

Hermione crossed her arms on her chest, puzzled.  For a moment his voice had sounded softer and gentler, and all because she'd said his name.  That wasn't like him.  "That's your name, isn't it?"

"Yes, but you've never…" he paused and cleared his throat.  His malicious tone returned when he added, "What are you doing here at this hour, anyway?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she pointed out.  "But if you have to know, I just couldn't sleep.  I came here to read."

"Me too," was the reply.

Hermione bit back a smile.  "Honestly, Draco, you're scaring me.  Since when do you read for pleasure?"

"Since always, Granger, what are you getting at?" he retorted, slightly confused.

She blushed.  "It's just…"

"Get on with it," he prompted.

"Well, I always…I always thought the only pleasure you got out of anything had breasts attached," she said uncomfortably, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks like wildfire.  _I cannot believe I just said that out loud_, she thought, surprised at her own boldness.

Draco, on the other hand, was impressed.  He hadn't ever realized Hermione was actually, well, a girl.  He had always just thought of her as Mudblood Granger, the saintly Harry Potter's bookworm best friend and Hogwarts' resident uptight bitch.  He laughed outright when she made that comment; obviously she was as surprised as he was that it had come out of her mouth.  "Oh, how little you know me," he sighed playfully.

She shrugged, still dreadfully embarrassed.  If she hadn't been so out of sorts for saying what she had, she might have thought a little more about how, well, normal Draco was acting.  Throwing a few insults to the wind, she could easily mistake him for someone she actually wanted to have a conversation with.

Except for one thing: she couldn't possibly forget that she was, indeed, talking to Draco Malfoy, and despite their rocky past she found she _did_ want to have a conversation with him.  

"I'll just be going," she mumbled quickly.  "The books call to me."

"Hermione, wait," Draco called out, grabbing hold of her arm as she started to leave.  

She turned back at his touch, which sent involuntary shivers up her arm, and unintentionally looked up into his eyes.  Unlike their usual icy steel, his eyes were now like a summer sky; warm and lovely (although she was sure he didn't intend it to be so).  _Dragon eyes, she thought, referring to the term used when a person's eyes changed color with his or her emotions._

"You called me Hermione," she whispered, her eyes never leaving his.

He smirked, but it was almost a kind one.  "You called me Draco."

She blushed again, smiling slightly.  "You wanted me to wait?" she reminded him.

His eyes flashed, and suddenly they were stormy grey.  "Never mind," he said quickly, still holding onto her arm.  Hermione didn't seem to mind.  "Just go read.  And don't bother me again."  

He couldn't tell her—a Gryffindor Mudblood—that he wished he could talk to her, _really_ talk to her.  Like he'd accidentally told her in the library all those weeks ago, he had no real friends of his own—just companions, and that in and of itself was an dodgy matter (mainly because, contrary to popular belief, he did not particularly like them)—and something about her made him want to trust her.

He didn't like the feeling, not at all.  It terrified him; he wasn't used to trusting anyone.  He didn't trust anyone.  And yet…she just looked so innocent and sweet.  It was suddenly hard for Draco to hate her, try as he might, but unfortunately she was the one person who he was sure would always hate him back.  


	3. Hogsmeade and the Potions Examination

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**Author's Note****: Happy New Year!  I wanted to once again thank everyone who reviewed the last two chapters.  I can't even tell you how much I appreciate it.  Anyway, here's the next installment…hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter Three**

**Hogsmeade and the Potions Examination**

****

Six days later there was a pre-Christmas visit to Hogsmeade, meant for those people that were going home for the holidays and still needed to do some last-minute shopping.

For Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, it meant a day of browsing and a lot of time spent lounging in The Three Broomsticks.

"Why does that git Malfoy keep looking over here?" Ron asked suddenly, scowling in the steel-eyed Slytherin's general direction.  "Did I grow an extra head without either of you telling me?"

"Why, has it happened before?" Harry chuckled as Ron felt his neck and shoulders self-consciously.

Ron deepened his scowl.  "No."  As an afterthought he added, "Happened to Fred once, though.  He must have been seven or eight.  I couldn't look at him for months afterward without laughing.  Neither could anyone else, well except Mum.  She didn't think it was that funny.  I swear, that woman is seriously lacking in the sense of humor department."

Hermione nearly choked on her butterbeer.  "Excuse me?  What on earth are you talking about, growing an extra head, that's physically and magically impossible!"

"If anyone would know, Hermione would," Harry admitted.

Their red-headed friend shook his head.  "It was a hex gone wrong," he explained.  "And it wasn't really an extra head, not the way you two are imagining…he's already got one of those, his name is George.  Except George has a body attached.  It was just a smallish, head-shaped growth coming out of his neck.  It didn't have eyes or a nose, but it did have a mouth, and it kept saying really nasty things to anyone who passed by."

Harry burst out laughing.  "I would kill to see that!" he exclaimed.

Ron could barely speak; the memory was driving him into fits of hysterical laughter where he could barely breathe.  "We have photographs somewhere, I think…unless Fred burned them."

"I would have," Hermione commented, but she was laughing too. 

*~*~*~*

Over at his table, Draco sipped his cherry rum thoughtfully, watching The Three Musketeers—Hermione in particular.  She was laughing about something, and he raised an eyebrow as she tossed her head back, smiling really wide.  Draco took a large swig and forced the harsh liquid down, wishing he were the one to make her laugh.  He never made anyone laugh.  Hell, he never laughed.  He ignored the conversation around him—Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, and Pansy didn't even half interest him today—and thought about Her, the Gryffindor who had taken over his mind.  Draco didn't understand why suddenly he couldn't stop thinking about her.  So he'd had two run-ins with her, in the library no less, where they hadn't nearly killed each other.  And now suddenly his brain was constantly tuned to the Hermione network: all Hermione, all the time.  His stomach flipped over involuntarily when her eyes flashed in his direction.  He caught and held her glance for a moment, hoping he looked nonchalant and arrogant like he always did, and praying his face didn't betray his true emotions...like he even knew what they were.  

_My true emotions?_  Draco thought disgustedly.  _Bloody hell, what am I on_?__

Suddenly his thoughts of Hermione were purged as a girl who couldn't possibly have been older than nineteen sauntered up to him.  She looked like a younger version of the lovely Madam Rosmerta; all high heels and curves and hair.  He wouldn't have noticed her but it would have been impossible not to, even in Draco's absent state of mind; her entire outfit was red, green, and glittering.  

"Hi," she said breathily, running a hand through full, perfect curls that were a deep shade of red not found in nature.  "I'm Allegra, Rosmerta's cousin.  I'm gonna be working here now. Who might you be, handsome?"

"Draco Malfoy," he said inattentively, still watching the brunette Gryffindor several tables across the room.  

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, you look like you could use a bit of cheering up," Allegra purred, sliding onto Draco's lap.  From behind the counter Madam Rosmerta smiled, obviously proud of the way Allegra was acting.

Draco was about to decline until he saw Pansy across the table, gripping the armrests on her chair with white knuckles, and her jaw clenched.  She'd actually been the one to break off their short-lived relationship all the way back in fourth year, and yet she still hated seeing Draco with any other girls.  _Insufferable wench,_ he thought bitterly as he eyed her warily, trying to guess what she was thinking of doing with Miss Allegra.  

His eyes shifted back to Hermione and he almost said no, but he couldn't stand seeing her happy and laughing.  Filthy Mudblood.  And did she have to shake her hair like that?  Mentally he kicked himself.  He had to stop having those thoughts.  What would his father (_Who is conveniently dead, he reminded himself) say?_

So with one last look at Pansy, whose face had contorted into an ugly, jealous snarl, he let some of his pale blond hair fall in his eyes and looked at the perfectly lovely, sexy Allegra on his lap.  "I could use some cheering up," he said, his voice low.  "Where do you want to go?"

Allegra squealed in delight and hugged Draco around the neck, one long, shapely leg swinging up in front of her as she did so.

Draco's breath caught in his throat; forget stupid vexing Granger, this chick was _hot_!  He kissed her hard on the lips in a way that promised there would be more where that came from and she immediately led him away, giving him strategically placed sultry looks all the while.

*~*~*~*

Hermione eyed Malfoy with contempt as he left with a sexy young redhead.  She didn't miss the glare he shot back at her as he passed her table, either.  

_Well, fine,_ Hermione thought stubbornly, _it's not my fault he's a concupiscent pig!_

Had he no pride at all, practically going at it with Rosmerta's cousin in the middle of The Three Broomsticks?  And now they were leaving to do Merlin knows what!  She asked herself why she even cared.  She didn't _care.  That was way too strong a word.  She just wanted to be sure he kept up Hogwarts' excellent reputation.  Yeah…that must be it. _

"Hermione?" she heard Ron's voice say exasperatedly, bringing her back to reality and away from her aggravating thoughts of a certain Malfoy. 

"Yes?" she said, shaking her head to clear it.

The two boys eyed her warily.  "You kept staring at that disgusting display provided by Miss Allegra and her new, er, companion, Master Malfoy," Harry informed her.  "Any, um, reason?"

"No," Hermione said defensively, standing up.  "None at all.  I was just tired, I've been studying so hard and I've barely gotten any sleep in five weeks."

_Of course_, she thought, biting her lip, _the reason for my lack of sleep is not because I've been up studying all night.  Well, not the entire reason.  But they don't have to know that, do they?_   Her eyes drifted and landed on, as Harry had so eloquently called it, a 'disgusting display': Allegra and Draco were searching each other's stomachs for buried treasure with their tongues, by the looks of things.  And in broad daylight, no less!

Hermione sighed inwardly, wondering what it was like to be sexy, to be wanted for something other than the homework.  She wondered what it was like to be wanted by Draco Malfoy.

*~*~*~*

          "Now pour your completed potion into the vials you will see on the ends of each of your tables, make sure to cap them tightly, and bring them up to me," Professor Snape said dryly at the end of their Potions practical examination.  "And no talking, or I shall be forced to take five points from Gryffindor every time someone opens his or her mouth."

          Hermione threw up her hands and rolled her eyes, looking meaningfully at Harry and Ron, who both looked as angry as she felt.  She knew they were all thinking the same thing: _Didn't that pompous git know what he was doing?_

          An increasingly loud buzz filled the dungeon classroom as nearly every Slytherin in the room, of course, immediately started talking.  

          Harry and Hermione exchanged exasperated glances while Ron muttered nasty things about Snape under his breath.

"Quiet, everyone!" Snape snapped after a minute or two.  "That'll be thirty points from Gryffindor," he added maliciously. 

"All he wants is to make us angry," Ron mumbled crossly, "I swear that's his mission in life…he's a stupid, deranged, son-of-a—"

"RON!" Hermione hissed.  "If any of _them hear you, it'll only make things worse!"_

Not being an idiot, Ron complied, but he continued to make faces at their greasy-haired professor and made crude gestures under the table.  Harry, at least, thought it was funny, but Hermione just shook her head and capped her potion.  

"Bring the vials up quickly now," Snape continued, "so you nasty children can get out of here faster."

Malfoy then pointedly looked in their direction, raised his eyebrows at Hermione, and with a smirk he mimed zipping his mouth shut as if to say, "I didn't talk, don't you worry."  

          At the sight of this, Ron's jaw dropped and he kept closing it, then opening it again as he looked worriedly at Hermione, who was biting her lip in an attempt to hide a smile.  

          Harry nudged Ron; silently trying to ask him if he'd noticed how Hermione's eyes kept flickering back to Draco.  His eyes, however, never left her.

*~*~*~*

          "I am so glad that's over with," Harry said happily as he and his two best  friends stumbled out of Snape's dungeon.  

          "I know," Ron agreed.  "That's it for examinations!  Oh my God, it's the end of fall term!  I'm so happy I could cry!"

          Hermione smiled at them.  "Now you can think about all the fabulous extra holiday work we have to get done," she said contemptuously.

Ron's smile immediately fell.  "Jeez, Hermione!" he moaned.  "How is it that you always know just how to kill a mood?"

"I do not," she argued, "I'm just stating the truth!"

"But did you have to state it _now?" he demanded._

Hermione, however, could not answer, because time itself stopped then.  She was completely frozen, save for the shivers creeping rapidly up her spine, and heard only a silky voice whisper in her ear, "Good luck on those exams, Granger.  I'll see you around," and then a tall, blond figure walked in the opposite direction.

"Hermione?" Harry said worriedly, waving a hand in front of her face.  "What's wrong?  Did Malfoy do anything?"

"What?" she asked dumbly.  "Why would he do anything?"

"Because he's Malfoy," Ron shot back, but he looked as confused as Harry.

"No," she said absently.  "He did nothing.  Let's go see about getting something to eat."

Both boys, of course, agreed at once and so off they went, leaving Hermione with a lot of mixed emotions to sort out.


	4. That's What I Was Afraid Of

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**Author's Note****: Thanks again for reviewing!  It means so much to me that you guys like this story.  I now have a beta reader (thanks Sarah!) so hopefully mistakes will be few and far between.  And now without further ado, here's the next chapter!  xxx*Anya*xxx**

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**Chapter Four**

**That's What I Was Afraid Of**

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"Are you _sure_ you're going to be alright here without Ron and me?" Harry asked, a very concerned expression on his handsome face.  Everyone was departing for the Christmas holidays; everyone that is, except for Hermione and roughly fifty other people. 

"Yes, Harry," she said for the hundredth time.  "There's nothing to worry about, I'll be fine."

"You're _sure_, love?  Because if you want me to stay, I'll stay," he assured her.  Hermione's stomach jumped.  Harry only ever called Cho 'love'.  Even so, now was not the time or place to be thinking about such things—perhaps he just did it out of habit?  Or it could be affection, they _had been friends for over six years now—so she pushed the feeling away.   _

"_Yes_, Harry!"  She laughed and took his hands.  "I'll read, I'll study, I'll wander the grounds, and I _won't_ get myself killed.  I promise."  

She held up her small, slender pinky finger.  "Pinky swear," she said innocently, looking up at him with widened, already large chocolate eyes.  

Now Harry laughed and, humoring her, linked his pinky in hers.  "Okay fine," he grumbled good-naturedly.  He put his hand on her cheek and looked directly into her eyes.  "Hermione…"

In that instant, his deep emerald eyes gave away everything, everything that shouldn't have been.  Hermione felt it in the pit of her stomach as he slowly leaned closer…  

"Harry, don't," she whispered with closed eyes, too afraid to move.  "Please."

Harry shook his head quickly, pulling his hand away as if her cheek had suddenly become very hot.  "Of course," he said awkwardly, his brows knit together in an anxious frown as he began to babble on.  "What was I thinking?  I mean, I have Cho and you have…well, you don't have me, that's for sure, because I'm going to visit Cho's whole entire family. All of them in one house, Hermione!  And I've never even met her parents.  Life's just funny that way, I suppose.  As if there weren't enough for me to be anxious about, now we pull meeting my girlfriend's kin into the equation!  Cho tells me they're so straight-laced and conservative; it's going to take so much to impress them, I don't know how I'm going to get them to like me.  But even so…you're my best friend, Hermione, how could I have possibly…I don't know what I was…"

"Thinking?" Hermione supplied, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Yeah," he said quietly, gently pulling one of her russet curls.

Hermione shook her head.  "I'm sorry, Harry. I promise it's nothing personal.  I love you very much, but only as a friend, I think.  Even if I didn't love you only as a friend, now is not the time or the place.  I know that, and you know that too.  I just don't want to make trouble, Harry."

He nodded slowly.  "I know.  I love you too, Hermione.  But I also love Cho."

Hermione stood on tiptoe and placed a timid kiss on his cheek.  "You'd better go," she said.  "You don't want Cho to wonder where you'd run off to."

He smiled, and with a last embrace, he was gone.

"Aww, Scarhead and Mudblood's sweet farewells," drawled a lazy voice behind Hermione that could only belong to one person.  "You two are so hopelessly in love it makes me nauseous."

Hermione turned to face him and rolled her eyes.  Apparently, any traces of a halfway decent, nearly _human_ Draco were gone.  "We're not in love, Malfoy.  We're just friends."

"Platonic love is like an inactive volcano," he quoted sardonically.

"Shouldn't you be leaving for your holiday?" she asked desperately.

He grinned maliciously.  "Why, as a matter of fact, no.  Turns out I'm staying here this winter."

Half of the sensible part of Hermione wanted to ask why he wasn't going off on some gallant adventure across the wealthiest, most exotic parts of Europe with his fabulous mates, Crabbe and Goyle, as he usually did since his father had died.  The other half of the sensible part of Hermione knew he'd only glare and refuse to answer.  The other part of Hermione, the part that wasn't quite so sensible, felt a pang of—excitement?  Apprehension?  Trepidation, even?  Well, maybe those weren't the correct words, but her heart started pounding and she felt her stomach freefall as her eyes widened and she realized she would be staying at Hogwarts for the next two weeks with none other than Draco Malfoy.  It wasn't necessarily a good or bad feeling, but either way it was certainly an intense one.

Correctly interpreting the albeit confused expression on Hermione's face, Draco rolled his eyes.  "That's just marvelous, I'm going to be locked in a castle for two weeks with a filthy Mudblood.  It doesn't get much better than that, now does it?"

Hermione smiled sincerely.  "No, I don't suppose it does."

He nodded awkwardly.  _I hate her! _He said soundlessly to himself.  _Every time I think I'm winning, she has to go and do something stupid like smile at me!  Doesn't she realize what that _does_ to people?  Well, I'll tell you one thing, Granger.  You will not win any battle of wits—or anything else, for that matter—against Draco Malfoy.  I do not lose. _

Instead, what came out of his mouth was, "So…I'll stay out of your way, and you'll stay out of mine?"

_Dammit!_ He thought angrily, silently cursing himself.  _What on earth does she do to people to make them sound so goddamn stupid and blundering? _

Hermione eyed him oddly.  "As you wish, Draco."

There it was again.  She said his name and he felt chills all through his body.  It was so hard to be mean to her when she caused him to feel like that, and only at the mention of his first name.  But he had to.  He couldn't lose.

Then he heard her melodic voice again, searing through the drafty halls of Hogwarts.  "I'll just tell you one thing, though.  We can try our best to stay out of each other's ways, but for all that this castle looks big, we're bound to run into each other sooner or later.  You don't want to…so, unfortunately, it's inevitable."

He froze in his tracks and listened carefully for the sound of her walking away.  He sighed and said almost noiselessly, "That's what I was afraid of."

*~*~*~*

There weren't enough people left at Hogwarts to require all four House tables in the Great Hall now that most people had gone; in fact all the students could fit at one table and the remaining staff sat comfortably at the regular staff table. 

Hermione eased into her normal place at the table out of habit, even though it may not have even been her House table and even though it obviously was not in the position she was used to.  Without glancing up once, she took her share of several dishes and a glass of pumpkin juice.

To tell the truth, she was a little lonely without Harry and Ron on either side of her making her laugh—of course she missed them, they were her best friends after all—but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle.  She was rather excited that she would have two weeks to do nothing but relax, and especially read.  

It was when she took her first sip of juice that she first looked up from her food.  "Fancy seeing you here, Granger," said a lilting voice from directly across the table.

She smiled incongruously as she looked up at the Slytherin Prince.  "See Malfoy, I told you we'd run into each other."

"Oh, and I am ever so pleased about it, too," he simpered acerbically with a delicious smirk upon his soft, full lips.

She looked at him with only her eyes for a brief moment before returning wordlessly to her dinner.  Draco, on the other hand, took a moment to look at the enigma that was Hermione.  One minute she was spouting out insults at him and the next they were engaging in—could one call conversations such as the one they'd just had flirting?—but no matter what the situation, she was never anything less than cool, collected, and unnervingly charming.

Draco longed to see her otherwise.

He frowned, truly observing her face for the first time.  Of course, he'd have liked to several times before, but he was never close enough with the essential time to make his elucidations.  

In all honesty, he liked what he saw.  She was not classically beautiful like, say, Ginny Weasley (her family might be disgraces to Wizardkind, but Draco knew beauty when he saw it and Ginny had plenty), but neither was she a disreputable harlot like Pansy Parkinson.  Hermione was nothing short of lovely, in her own way, with her large, chocolate doe eyes, small, pert nose and naturally upward-curving, corpulent pink lips.  And that hair!  Draco longed to get his hands on her twirling russet waves, which fell halfway down her back in an effortlessly sexy, carefree way.  

Suddenly, Draco was smoldering with desire for a girl he had learned to hate.  And for what?  Because her blood was _dirty?  Hadn't he learned in Human Studies that the blood coursing through all human veins was almost exactly the same?  It had been, of course, his dearly beloved father (__Not, Draco snorted) who had taught him about Mudbloods in the first place.  Ridiculous.    _

He watched her take dainty bites of her food before realizing that he hadn't eaten any of his own.  It didn't matter.  He wanted her.

_Not now_, his conscience said vehemently.  _Not yet.  She's not ready for you; she's too sweet and innocent.  Give her time to warm up to you first, but be careful._

_Careful?_  Draco wondered silently.  _What do you mean, careful?_

_As much as your outstandingly different ways may have a contagious effect on her, imagine what she with her warm heart and unbounded kindness can do to you_, his conscience warned.  

Draco shook his head and noiselessly laughed it off, pretending not to be fazed.  Then again, this was all happening inside his head, where no fooling could be done.  

"What?" Hermione asked suddenly, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"What do you mean, what?" he asked sourly.

"You were staring at me," she said plainly.  "Is something the matter?"

"No," he said defiantly.  "Why would anything be the matter?"

She clenched her fists.  "I don't know, Malfoy, that's why I bothered to ask you in the first place.  Must you _always be so difficult?"  _

"Yes," he shot back.          

"Attention, all Hogwarts students," Professor Dumbledore said loudly, immediately halting the start of yet another one of Draco and Hermione's pointless rows.  "We have an unusually large number staying with us this holiday season, so we have decided that as part of the Christmas splendor, we will have a Christmas Ball.  Of course…this one will be much smaller than and not quite as formal as the Yule Ball two years ago, but the faculty and I decided that having a nice little party would go swimmingly and be a jolly good time for everyone.  Hear, hear?"

"Hear, hear!" the students shouted back.

"That will be all, thank you," Dumbledore finished.  

*~*~*~*

Hermione unintentionally found him later that night in the library.  He was reading at her favorite table and looked so deeply into his book that she almost didn't want to disturb him.  

          Of course, that wouldn't be nearly as much fun.

          "I told you we'd run into each other sooner or later," she said quietly, sitting down next to him. 

          Draco looked up at her quickly, eyes flashing.  For a brief moment they were that beautiful summer-sky blue again, but then they turned back to their normal steely shade.  "Get your own table, Granger."

          She frowned.  "You know perfectly well that I _always sit here."_

          "Actually, I didn't," he said matter-of-factly.  "So if you don't mind, I'm reading and would prefer to be left alone."

          "I'll leave you alone," she said furtively, sliding into a chair across from him, "but this is my favorite table and I don't intend on sitting anywhere else."

          He puckered his brow.  "But you"—

          She looked at him over her book; her face was stern but a playful smile escaped from her eyes.  "Nuh-uh-uh!  I need peace and quiet while I'm reading, if you'll kindly oblige me, Master Malfoy."

_Two can play that game_, Draco thought mischievously, and proceeded to kick Hermione hard under the table. 

"Hey!" she screamed before realizing they were, indeed, in the library.

"Whoops, my apologies," he said all too innocently, but he continued to kick her periodically throughout the night.

At one point, she looked him straight in the eye and said, "God, Draco, I know I'm pretty, but playing footsie is _so third-year!"_

He gaped at her open-mouthed (_Does she absolutely have to say my name like that when I'm trying to live up to my reputation as a foul asshole? He thought)and then spat out the first thing that came to his mind that might serve his defense.  "You thought I was…hah!  That's a laugh, Granger.  Don't flatter yourself." _

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," was the calm reply.  

"What are you reading, anyway?" he asked her abruptly after a few moments' silence, peering over her shoulder.

She smiled wistfully and held the book to her chest, her distaste toward Draco immediately forgotten.  "One of my favorite Muggle stories.  It's a terribly intense tale about star-crossed lovers, who were destined for a downfall but with the ability to change their world."

Draco nodded.  "Doesn't sound half-bad," he said.  "I might have to read it some time."

She smiled at him, looking rather pleased and surprised.  "You should," she said brightly.  "It's absolutely wonderful.  It's called Romeo and Juliet.  I don't think they have it here, but I'll lend you my copy if you'd like."

He smirked.  "There really isn't anything that you love more than a good book, is there?" 

"Well, I wouldn't necessarily say _anything," Hermione said in her defense, "But I do love to read, a lot."_

"I love it too," he said, looking right into her eyes, his smirk almost a true smile.

Hermione suddenly found it hard to breathe.  "It's getting late," she stammered, gathering her things and trying to compose herself.  "So I think I'm going to go back at Gryffindor Tower.  I'll see you around, I suppose."

"Yeah, see you," he said absently, turning back to his own book.  _See, he told himself, _this is why you don't like anyone, because the second you show a side of yourself that's not made of steel, they turn away from you!__

She pursed her lips on her way out of the library, bewildered by his ability to run warm, then cold, and make that transition in a matter of seconds.  She'd never met anyone like him.

Unfortunately, as acrid and repugnant as he was trying to be, he couldn't help but watch her leave.


	5. The Christmas Ball and Surrounding Event...

**Author's Note:**** Well it's back to school as of yesterday (for me at least) and after only one day, it just figures-- I get behind on my posts!!  See, I have this all written out up until chapter…8, I think, somewhere around there, and have thus far been posting every other day, but don't know if my posts will be able to be as frequent.  I'll definitely try to get something up every few days.  Anyway, I'm really happy with this chapter (in fact I have fondly nicknamed it "The Big One"); I have rewritten and tweaked to no end and I really hope you guys like it!  You find out the logic behind the title, too.  Oh and before I forget-- many, many, many thanks to everyone who's read and even more to those who have reviewed.  Hearing from you guys makes me smile so wide I keep thinking my face is going to split!!  In any case, I've kept you long enough; enjoy!           xxx*Anya*xxx  **

**Chapter Five**

**The Christmas Ball and Surrounding Events**

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The days passed by without any sort of excitement other than most people trying to find dates to the Christmas Ball.  Hermione hadn't yet been asked by anyone (including, as much as she would have liked to deny it, the one person she really wanted to ask her), but she didn't mind as much as she might have.  The Ball was in four days and at this point, she wasn't even sure if she was going to go. 

However, fate—or perhaps just a seventh-year Ravenclaw named Tom McFarland that she knew only by sight—found her in the library that afternoon.  

"Hermione?" he asked timidly as he approached her.  "I'm Tom."

"Hullo Tom," she said cheerfully, accepting the hand he offered.

"Hullo.  I'm so sorry to disturb you, but I'd like to talk to you for a moment.  If that's alright?"

"Of course it is," she said, smiling, and put her book down.  

"I know this is going to sound really random," he began uncomfortably, "but I've, er, admired you from afar for some time now and I would like it if…oh I'm sorry, I sound like such an idiot."

Hermione put her hand on his.  "No you don't, please go on."

He smiled slightly through the blush that had inched up his pale face and continued awkwardly, "Well, I'd really like it if you would consider being my date to the Christmas Ball.  That is, if you aren't already going with someone else.  You don't have to answer right away."

Hermione smiled and thought as she looked him over.  He was sweet and polite; two big plus points.  Lavender Brown had dated him for all of three weeks in fifth year and even though their relationship came to a crashing halt after such a short time, she always spoke highly of him—or she did after the pain wore off.  He was rather attractive, too, in a bookish sort of way.  He was fairly lanky and shorter than both Harry and Ron but taller than her, and he had comparatively understated, although attractive features: floppy, sand-colored hair and large hazel eyes.

"Sure," she said at last, a bright smile upon her face.  "I'd love to."

"Really?" Tom said happily.  "Oh, that's wonderful.  I'll meet you outside the Great Hall ten minutes before the Ball begins, alright?"

"Alright," she replied, feeling uplifted at the thought of brightening his day.  _He's a sweet lad, she thought, trying to push out the incommodious part of her mind that wished someone else had asked her.  Unfortunately, her efforts went to no avail._

*~*~*~*

Draco sat next to her at dinner that night, a charming smirk upon his lovely face.  

Hermione eyed him suspiciously, attempting to ignore the fluttering feeling that had entered her stomach.  "What've you been up to?"

"What do you mean, Granger?" he asked, raising a single eyebrow.

"You, you look like you've done something," she accused, taking a swig of pumpkin juice.  "Do I even want to know?"

"I haven't _done_ anything," Draco stated crossly.  After a moment's pause he added, "D'you have a date for the Christmas Ball?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," she said proudly.

"Who?" he demanded.  

Hermione smiled smugly.  That was, by all definitions, a very jealous 'who'.  A feeling of power filled her suddenly; she liked it.  

"Oh, just this Ravenclaw boy," she said evasively. 

"Do I know him?" he pressed.

She looked at him questioningly.  "How do I know who you do and don't know?"

Draco leaned back in his chair, mentally chastising himself for how ridiculous he was being.  "You don't," he snapped.  "But whatever."

"Do you have a date?" she asked politely, buttering a roll.

He smirked.  "Of course.  Erin Pallor, if you must know."

"I didn't ask," she said quickly, thinking, _what happened to that racy Miss Allegra?  Merlin, can't he hold onto the same girl for two weeks? _

"Granger, I don't care if you asked or not, either way I offered the information," he said exasperatedly.

"Okay, Malfoy," she said, slightly taken aback.  "Merlin, you're testy tonight."

"It's all part of my charm," he said arrogantly.  With a quick smirk that was almost a true smile, he went back to his food.  

After a moment he decided it was too quiet and shoved Hermione's arm.  In retaliation, she chucked bits of her roll at him and so he tackled her, trying to get the roll out of her hands.  

Hermione squealed in delight, trying not to knock over the people next to her and all too aware of how close Draco was.  He was touching her.  She couldn't not notice that.   

*~*~*~*

The day of the Christmas Ball, as much as Hermione would have hated to admit it, she spent over two hours getting ready.  Dumbledore had said they didn't need to dress too formally, but that didn't mean she was going to go in blue jeans.  She put on a fabulous espresso brown silk dress; it was knee-length with a long bodice, short, off-the-shoulder sleeves and a swishy skirt, and sheer black tulle over the brown fabric.  To top it off she had demure black and pale pink kitten heels and a small pale pink rosette pin that fastened just under her bust.  She wore her russet curls loose, with just the front and sides elegantly pinned back with delicate pearl barrettes.

Before she left the dormitory, she checked herself in her full-length mirror one last time.  A sudden thought entered her mind, which was: _Eat your heart out, Draco Malfoy!_

*~*~*~*

          She met Tom outside the Great Hall ten minutes before the Ball was to begin, just as he'd said.  He looked very nice in a plain gray button-up shirt and black dress pants.  Hermione kept telling herself she should feel lucky to be with such a cute, sweet boy, but she couldn't manage to keep her eyes from darting around the room, searching for Draco.  

          "Hermione," she heard Tom's voice call faintly.  "It's time to go in, are you alright?"

          She blinked and looked up at her date, who wore a concerned expression on his sweet face.  "Yes, sorry, I'm fine," she said with a forced smile.  "Ready?"

          He smiled and offered his arm.  "When you are."

          And so they went in, and Hermione never saw the dark eyes behind her that lingered too long on exactly what, according to society rules, they shouldn't have.  

*~*~*~*

          "Welcome to the Christmas Ball!" Dumbledore proclaimed once everyone was inside.  The Great Hall looked wonderful; the enchanted ceiling showed an image of a perfectly clear night sky alight with billions of dazzling stars, and the whole room was done up in silver, black, and crimson.  The House tables were exchanged for several small, black wrought-iron café tables, sort of like at the Yule Ball two years past, and a large, long buffet table covered in a shimmering silvery cloth stood on one the westward walls, decorated with candles and bits of holly.  A beautiful, 18-foot Christmas tree stood proudly where the staff table usually was, covered in tinsel, candy canes, and tiny charmed lights that let off a subtle luminescence.  A string quartet sat in the southeastern corner, playing a beautiful, sweet melody.  The whole room was awash in the soft, gentle glow of elegant candelabras strategically placed throughout the room.  When all was said and done, the Great Hall had rarely looked better.  

          Hermione was not in the best of moods.  She looked around the room and wished with all her heart that Harry and Ron were here to see this.  She and Ron would have probably gone together—just as friends, of course—as they had for the last social function since Harry had started dating Cho.  She missed them both a lot.  It was one thing when they went away for the summers and had other things to distract them (well, maybe not Harry—poor boy), but to be at school without her two best friends made Hermione feel incredibly small and alone.

          Tom squeezed her hand comfortingly, although he didn't know exactly what he was comforting.  

          "Thanks," Hermione whispered, smiling a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.  

          To make matters worse, she had spotted him at last.  Young Master Malfoy, looking breathtakingly dashing in dark gray expensive-looking dress pants with perfect creases and an even more expensive-looking dress shirt in a rich navy that impeccably set off his eyes (which Hermione was now convinced could be seen from outer space).

          She watched him walk to a table with a tall, shapely blonde—she assumed it was Erin, his date—and then suddenly he looked up and those gorgeous eyes landed on Hermione.  She watched him slowly look her over, a small smirk crossing his lips and a practically hidden glint in his eyes that let her knew he liked what he saw.  

Hermione's heart leaped; she couldn't bring herself to believe that her past enemy and the current Hogwarts sex god might be a little bit interested in her.  It just didn't make sense, from where she was standing.  It didn't make sense from where _anyone was standing!  But, deny it thought she may, it was there.  Then their eyes met and held, and suddenly it was _Tom who?  ___Erin__ who?_

Hermione's thoughts raced.  _He's doing that mysterious thing again, which he unfortunately happens to be fabulous at.  What's behind those masks he calls eyes?  _

Her yearn for learning took over and she was overwhelmed with the desire to know everything there was to know about Draco Malfoy.  

_He's too much of a secret,_ she thought disdainfully, biting her lower lip.

"Would you like something to drink?" Tom asked courteously, leading Hermione over to one of the tables.

"Oh, no thanks," she said politely.  

"I'll be right back, then," he said, smiling at her as though she were the most beautiful woman in the world.  Hermione watched him walk away, feeling disgusted with herself.  Right then and there, she decided to be a perfect date to Tom.  _He must be thinking I'm an awful person, or that I don't like him, _Hermione thought, furrowing her brow.  

When Tom came back with his drink, Hermione gave him a minute and then dragged him (as only a lady would) onto the dance floor.  There were several couples dancing at that point, but Draco and Erin were still seated.  They seemed to be attempting at a conversation, but between Erin's frequent blushes and Draco running his hands through his hair like a madman, Hermione guessed it wasn't going all that well.  She couldn't help but smile, but as her chin was resting on Tom's shoulder, he felt her mouth move and asked why she was smiling.

"No reason," she said vaguely, not able to take her eyes off of that blasted supercilious blond.  She hated this so much, this whole business with liking him, and yet she couldn't seem to get enough.  He'd woven a spell over her, and there was seemingly no way out.

"Tom, I'm feeling a little dizzy," she said.  She felt terrible; she still couldn't take her eyes off of Draco (who knew it) and had stepped on poor Tom's toes no less than three times.  "Maybe we should go sit down again."

"Sure Hermione," he said, concerned.  "Are you having a good time?"

"Oh yes," she reassured both him and herself, "I'm having a lovely time.  I just need to sit down for a minute."

Not five minutes after they did sit down, a tall, shapely blonde girl approached Tom.  The girl, of course, was Erin.  From up close, Hermione thought she looked almost nice; she had a friendly smile and a cute smattering of freckles across her nose.  

"Hi Tom," she said shyly with a voice as breathy as it was kind.  _So this __is Draco's date? Hermione thought critically to herself.  _Seems like quite a last-minute choice to me, especially for his standards.__

"Would you care to dance?" Erin asked timidly, a hopeful expression on her pretty face.

Tom opened his mouth, then looked back at Hermione and said almost desolately, "Actually, I—"

"No, it's fine," Hermione assured him.  "You go ahead, I'll be fine here."

"What about your date, Erin?" Tom wondered.  "Weren't you here with Malfoy?"

A goaded expression crossed Erin's face as she said slightly bitterly, "Yes, but I can assure you that he won't even notice I'm gone.  He was too busy ogling other girls—one in particular, his eyes kept following her all around the room, although I don't know who it was"— (Hermione's heart leapt at this)—"and then saying boorish things when I tried to bring him out of his fantasies."

"Well, you two have fun," Hermione called after them as Tom led Erin, mesmerized, onto the dance floor.  _Well, that's the last I'm seeing of Tom, she thought good-naturedly.  __I was a lousy date, anyway.    _

She looked longingly at everyone around her and wondered why she couldn't just be happy with what she had.  It wasn't like her to get distracted.  Mind you, she was just as bookish as ever, but for the past five or six weeks she was more likely to need a ten-minute break every so often because she'd gotten caught up in one daydream or another.  

"Granger, get your head out of the clouds," drawled a familiar voice, and Hermione was startled to see a tall, gorgeous blonde boy standing in front of her.

"Hullo Malfoy," she said.

"Hullo," he said, a true smile crossing his lips.  Hermione's breath caught in her throat; it was one of the loveliest sights she'd ever seen.  "You look beautiful," he said quietly.  She glanced up at him to see if he was serious; his face was completely honest (a rarity for him) and his eyes were that pure shade of summer-sky blue she loved and only saw when he looked at her.  

"Thank you," she said coyly, feeling the heat of an oncoming blush racing up her neck.  "I'm flattered."

His smile widened and he offered a hand.  "May I have this dance?"

"How can I refuse?" she purred, accepting his hand and letting him pull her up.  

The string quartet began a new song just then; a haunting, lilting melody that reminded Hermione of old, mystical days that were long gone, to be recollected only in a dream.

Their eyes met and Hermione fell hard for him as he placed a strong but gentle hand around her waist, pulling her close.  Around they twirled, waltzing effortlessly in the darkened room under the magical twilit sky.  Hermione felt entirely lightheaded and the room was spinning around her, but she barely noticed; all that mattered was that he was holding her and that the music went on.  

Draco spun the exquisite beauty around and danced in perfect step with her, paying no mind to anyone else in the room.  Her chocolate eyes never faltered, and he felt her increasingly shallow breaths underneath the hand he kept wrapped around her slender waist.  He hated this feeling; it was beyond his control.  He wanted to eat, sleep, and breathe Hermione, and oh, how delicious those cherry lips looked.  He pulled her closer, hungry for more.  His entire body was filled with a burning lust that he couldn't explain.  He couldn't explain when it first started, even.  It might have been that day in the library, when they were both supposed to be at Hogsmeade.  

_If only I'd gone to Hogsmeade,_ he thought wistfully, _and then I wouldn't be feeling like this.  I wouldn't feel like wolves are about to eat me alive, I wouldn't feel like I could fly on my own if I tried, and I wouldn't feel like I'll never be satisfied, like there's something I can't live without just__ out of my reach._

He sighed inwardly and looked at Hermione; she looked just as deep in thought as he was.  "What are you thinking?" he asked her quietly as they glided across the floor.  

Her eyes sharpened as if only a few seconds before she'd been someplace far away.  "Oh…just about this Muggle Studies essay I need to get done," she lied.  

He raised a skeptical eyebrow.  "Contrary to popular belief, I don't bite, you know.  At least, not anymore," he said.  "And it doesn't take a genius to see that you were lying."

She sighed.  "I've never been a good liar," she admitted.

He twirled her once more before they took off waltzing again.  "Too right.  Now what were you really thinking?"

She frowned and took her hand off of his shoulder for a brief moment to push a stray lock of golden hair out of his eyes.  "Just about…how lonely you look."

Now it was his turn to frown.  He doubted that was what she'd been thinking before, but she wasn't lying now.  "Lonely?  I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do," she insisted,  "and it's not just that.  You're so closed in all the time.  Don't you ever feel anything?"  His face shut down again and she pressed, "Don't you _want_ to feel anything?  Anger, happiness, sadness…jealousy…even love?"

"Love?  I know of no such thing," Draco scoffed, finally halting their dance.  "Love is something that exists only in fairy tales for the weak-hearted to believe in when they think they have nothing left."

"No, Draco, it's not like that," she persisted, pushing back the tears she could feel forming in the corners of her eyes.  "It's not like that at all.  Love is the cruelest and most wonderful emotion in the entire world; love is what keeps people going when there _is nothing left!  None of us would survive without love."_

His eyes turned back to that steely blue-gray.  "Why are you pushing this?" he demanded.

"I needed to know something," she said uneasily.  "But I do believe I found it out, and have decided it's not worth it."  

She turned to leave, but Draco grabbed her arm.  "What's not worth it, Granger?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter anymore," she said firmly, a single tear rolling down her cheek.  "But I have to go."

With sad eyes and an angry-looking mouth, Draco clenched his jaw as he watched her leave and made a mental note to kick himself hard in the ass later on.  _I couldn't very well have told her I fear love above all because I have never known it, he reminded himself.  But to watch her go before they'd even gotten started had to have been one of the worst feelings he'd ever had._

*~*~*~*

Hermione exited the Great Hall in an angry, sad, and tearful flurry, unsure of what to do or where to go.  She could go back up to the common room…_and do what? She asked herself.  There was nothing for her up there, just as there was nothing for her with Draco Malfoy._

_I should have known_, she scolded herself.  _I should have known not to let my feelings run away with me.  They get in the way in the best of situations, never mind when you're dealing with someone as cold and awful as Draco Malfoy!  He doesn't deserve my tears._

As much as she tried to tell herself exactly this, she couldn't stop the tears from flowing.

At last she decided to wander the grounds.  A walk was just what she needed to clear her head.  Besides, it looked so lovely all done up for the holidays, with icicles everywhere, ornamented Christmas trees all around, and fairy lights artfully decorating the gorgeous, massive grounds that looked splendid even at night in the wintertime.

"Perfect," she said to herself, sitting on a bench and gazing up at the clear night sky.  She let her thoughts slip away and just let herself_ be, something she didn't do nearly often enough.  _

Hermione didn't know how long she stayed there, but he found here there some time later, and she inadvertently replayed what had happened earlier in her head.  

"How'd you know I was out here?" she wondered when he hurried over to her and joined her in sitting on that bench.  

"Lucky guess," he said with a smirk.  "Look…I know you're mad at me, and I can understand that.  I wasn't exactly the nicest guy in there."  

She let a small smile escape.  "Is Draco Malfoy apologizing?" she queried with a raised eyebrow.

"No," he scowled, but his eyes laughed.  "I'm just saying you have every right to be mad at me."

"I just didn't understand why you were getting so defensive about your feelings," Hermione said honestly, "or lack thereof, as the case may be...I don't understand a lot of things when it comes to you."

He jiggled his leg nervously.  _Come on Malfoy, don't be a prat.  Just tell her you're scared.  What's the worst she can do?  Look at those big eyes…she's completely trustworthy, and she won't think any less of me.  Right?  Right…I should just explain to her that I'm not as perfect as I might seem.  Wait, that sounds arrogant.  What am I saying?  She'll never even notice.  Okay.  Okay.  You can do this, Malfoy, it's not that difficult._

"Hermione, I have a bit of a confession to make," he started uncertainly.  "But before I say anything, you have to understand that I didn't grow up in an environment that was anything like yours.  Never mind the pureblood-Mudblood thing at the moment, I'm talking about the people I grew up with.  They weren't exactly…warm.  They were chilly, at best…on their good days, which didn't come very often."

Hermione nodded, unsure of where this was going and trying to suppress the excitement she felt when he said her first name.  "Go on," she prompted.

"Yes, well the whole thing before, about…er, about…oh, well, never mind," he said with a sad smile, mentally cursing himself for chickening out.  _It's the only way, he assured himself.  _Don't let anything out, don't let anyone in.  That way you never get hurt.  Remember?  Don't let yourself fall under her spell, Malfoy, she's dangerous.  The pain she'll cause me is worse than any physical pain I could ever know.  Father always said that's why he never bothered.__

Unfortunately, as much as he tried to talk himself out of it, Draco knew he'd already fallen.

"It's okay, Draco," Hermione said soothingly.  "You don't have to say anything you don't want to.  And I forgive you, about before.  I think I understand a little better now."

"You can read minds or something?" he accused. 

"No," Hermione assured him. 

"Then how do you…?"

She smiled.  "Womanly instincts," she said complacently.  

Draco knew not to go there.  

"Hey, look!" she said suddenly, unwittingly grabbing his arm in excitement.  "Ice sprites!"

Ignoring the simultaneous shivers and heat he felt at her touch, he followed her gaze to the lake not far off, where dozens of tiny blue fairies known as ice sprites danced across the lake, leaving a faint trail of shimmering snow where they went.  He sighed in awe; there were some things about the magical world that never failed to impress him.

"Hey, Hermione?" he said quietly after a few moments.  What he was about to do, he told himself on deaf ears (his own), was very, very stupid.

Hermione looked at him, certain that she'd never get used to hearing her first name come out of his tantalizing lips; her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright.  "You said my name," she breathed, her words visible in the chill of the night air.

He swallowed and tried to stifle the fluttering feeling in his stomach.  He'd never, ever felt it before, not even when he should have.  And he should have, many times.  "Well, it's a very nice name," he stammered.

"You were going to say something?" she reminded him, brushing that same stray lock of hair out of his face.  

"I'm not really big on words," he admitted.  "This is the best I could come up with, being a man of no eloquence."

Hermione looked at him, at his summer-sky eyes, and realized that even if the poor boy didn't know how to love, she still wanted to let him give his best shot.  "I'm sure it's perfect," she started to say.

But she never finished the phrase, because suddenly his mouth was on hers in a torrent of raw, packed emotion that had been suppressed for too long.  All the secret looks, the late-night library interludes, and, best of all, the waltz could be felt in this kiss.  All the softness and sweetness in the world could not prepare Draco for Hermione's lips, just as all the burning passion and untapped emotion a person could contain could never have primed Hermione for Draco's needy, desirous touch.  She somehow knew that he'd never kissed anyone like he was kissing her right now, and the very thought of that made her let out a small moan she could hold back no longer, and then she pressed her mouth harder against his, deepening the kiss.  His soft, deliciously wet tongue parted her lips and she invited him in with her own, and now it was their tongues' turn to waltz.  He tasted like peppermint, gorgeous, priceless antiques, and secrets.  Oh, so many secrets.  She pulled his body as close to hers as it could get at the time and shifted herself so that she was practically sitting on his lap.  He didn't seem to mind at all.  Heat coursed through their bodies, flaring where their skin touched. His arms locked around her back and waist underneath all those luscious curls, her hands ran frantically through his pale golden hair, and everything earthly was forgotten.  They soared through heaven and beyond, attached at the mouth, as they both were filled with the rawest passion, desire, and affection that they'd ever felt.

It felt right.

When they broke at last, Hermione was laying drowsily in his arms; Draco had no intention of ever letting her go.  The magnitude of all that raw emotion had taken its toll on Hermione, who could suddenly scarcely keep her eyes open.  

"Thank you," she whispered sleepily, before collapsing into a dreamless slumber in his arms.


	6. Draco and Hermione: The Early Years

**Author's Note:**** Sorry to keep you all hanging like that, but with midterms coming up school has been so hectic and I've barely had time for fanfic (and for this I must die—I know the drill). Thanks so much to all of you who have read and reviewed; to those who thought it was too fluffy, well, there is going to be a good amount of fluff going on here (although I'm trying to not let it overpower the story, fluff is good for the soul but eventually starts rotting the brain) so whatever, I'm just letting you know.  As always, your encouraging words mean so much to me!!  I love you all… xxx*Anya*xxx**

**Chapter Six**

**Draco and Hermione: The Early Years**

A pleasant floral aroma filled her nostrils, arousing her sense of smell.  Next, her hearing awoke to the sound of rushing water.  Her closed eyes sensed a soft light just beyond her limited vision.  Her mind never stopped working; she'd dreamt of him and now as the previous night's happenings came back to her, a slow, happy smile spread across her face that she couldn't seem to stop.  She felt him next to her; he never actually touched her but she knew he was there, moving as soundlessly as he could.

"Draco?" Hermione mumbled incoherently, forcing one eye to crack open just a little bit.  She could see his blurry figure approaching her and she felt his lips gently brush her forehead.  

"Shhh," he cooed softly, stroking her hair, "Take some time to wake up properly before you 'Draco' me."

She inhaled deeply and stretched her arms over her head, letting her now half-opened eyes adjust to the light.  She could see a newly drawn bath close by (_That explains the rushing water, Hermione thought) and a tray of pastries, strawberries, and two glasses of juice to her right.  _

"I'm awake now," she called to him mellifluously.  She couldn't help but grin as Draco smiled a crooked smile that made her want to eat him alive.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he greeted her.  When she only looked at him quizzically he added, "My mother always loved Muggle fairy tales, so I at least know of many of them."

"Where are we?" she asked, still rather disoriented and not _quite_ fully awake.

"Prefects' bath," was the reply.  "I thought a spa day would do you some good, and I doubt you'll find a better spa than this."

Hermione considered; he was right.  For all that it was labeled as just a bathroom, it had several bathtubs of varying sizes, all with hundreds of jets spouting out different pleasurable solutions such as bubbles or colored water, a mud bath, and many other spa-like treatments available to the prefect in need of pampering.

"Wow," she said in awe, "I must say, I'm very impressed with you, Draco."

He smirked.  "Of course you are; that's because I'm perfect."

"Has anyone ever told you that you are extremely arrogant and annoying?" she demanded playfully, finding the strength to sit up.

"Actually, no," Draco said lightheartedly and in mock sadness, "but I suppose that's because the thought of one as wonderful as myself being arrogant and annoying never even occurred to them." 

Hermione frowned, ignoring his last comment, and asked, "Wait.  How did I get here in the first place?  Did I sleep in here?  Did we—" Her eyes widened in alarm.  "We didn't…well, _do anything we shouldn't have, right?"_

He smirked, deciding to have a moments' fun with this.  "Well," he said slyly, "that all depends on one's definition of what we should and shouldn't have done."

She gripped his arm.  "Draco, please.  I don't remember what happened after…"  She lowered her eyes.  "After, um, I left the Ball."

He nodded slowly.  So Hermione didn't remember anything, as it were!  _How could she not remember that heart-stopping, time-freezing, Malfoy-shaming kiss? He wondered to himself, and he asked her in dismay, "You don't remember _anything_?"_

She looked up at him with eyes that definitely had a trace of fear in them.  _Understandable, Draco thought in deliberation, _I'm sure mine look the same way.__

"Of…of course I remember," she said, surprised.  "I couldn't possibly forget.  But, that still doesn't answer why I woke up in the Prefects' bath."

"True," he agreed.  "Well, after you and I…um, after we went outside, you fell asleep in my arms, believe it or not, and I had no choice but to find someplace where we both could spend the night.  Stop looking at me like that, Granger, you were out cold, there was no nasty to be done unless I wanted to take complete advantage of you, or if I liked it limp.  Neither of which is the case.  Now, see, here's the dilemma: I couldn't very well have brought you back to Gryffindor tower because A, I have no idea where it is and B, even if I did, I do not know the password.  I couldn't bring you to the Slytherin dormitories either, because, well, that would be bad—you, as a Gryffindor, should not know where our ever so humble abode is…and Slytherins don't exactly have a reputation for being the most, er, tolerant group of kids in the world.  In other words, people of your, er, background aren't exactly welcomed in the Slytherin way."

A smile escaped from Hermione's lips.  _How cute,_ she thought.  _He's babbling incessantly, I've never seen him ramble on like this before!  "So what did you do, brave Malfoy?" she asked in mock suspense, humoring him.  _

He glared at her, although his summer-sky eyes were playful.  "It's really not a laughing matter," he said all too seriously.  "In the end, the only place I could think of that would make sense for both of us to be in, considering the fact that we are both Prefects, was the Prefects' bath.  I conjured up some mattresses for us—you're lying on one right now, awfully comfy, isn't it?—and here we are now."

"How come no one's come in?" she wondered.  "I mean, there are Prefects who use this bathroom on a regular basis."

He grinned.  "I charmed the floor just outside so it looks like it's leaking and tacked up a sign on the door."

"But Filch--?"

"Already taken care of," Draco said proudly.  "He came in earlier this morning and when he saw that there was no leak, he grumbled something about 'screwy magic' and left at once."

Hermione threw her arms around his neck, which took him completely by surprise.  "I must say, Draco…I'm impressed.  So now we have this room all to ourselves?" she whispered into his ear, sending shivers up his spine.

He backed away, knowing Hermione probably wouldn't like what he was thinking of right that instant.  "Well, _you_ do.  I'll be going as soon as you say the word."

She took his hands and looked up at him, chocolate eyes large.  "I want you to stay," she said hesitantly.  "I was just going to take a bath…and my body will be entirely covered with bubbles, it'll be fine.  I'd really like some company.  Is that alright?  Will you stay with me?"

_How can I say no?_ Draco moaned silently.  "As long as you're sure," he said.  

"I am," she assured him.  Pensively, she added, "Hey…Draco?  Um, this is just out of curiosity, but, er, why are you being so nice?" 

He laughed outright at this and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.  "You know, I don't know.  I guess because you're so adorable right now.  No, don't look at me that way, I'm not actually serious.  Well, you are adorable, but…well, I have a lot of things to sort out in my head and why I'm being nice to a member of the bloody Golden Trio is far beyond my understanding.  And yet, it is so.  But," he added with that familiar malicious glint back in his eye, although they were still that kind, loving sky blue, "I can assure you, it won't last long."

"Good," Hermione said.  "I kind of miss bickering with you, it's fun."

He laughed again and gently tweaked her nose.  "Nice to know you feel that way, Granger."

  She looked at him in contemplation.  "You should laugh more," she said thoughtfully.  "I like it when you laugh."

Draco's jaw clenched involuntarily.  _Stop thinking about shagging her, _he reprimanded himself.  _God, why is she so beautiful; what is it about her that makes me want her so badly?  Potter and Weasley are such idiots, not to have noticed this!  Ugh, this is too much all at once._

"You should take that bath," he said awkwardly, standing up.  

Hermione glanced up at him oddly.  "Right, the bath," she said absently.  She turned on a few of the taps, which let out pink water with a freesia-like aroma, incredibly thick white foam, and airy, pale yellow bubbles that smelled of honeysuckle.

"You might want to turn around, although…_ornatus velamen prodeo." _

A dressing screen appeared around her body so she was able to take off her clothes without Draco seeing.  Grabbing one of the fluffy white towels from beside the bathtub, she wrapped it around her naked body.  

"_Ornatus velamen abeo_," she said, and the dressing screen disappeared.  She stepped into the bath, carefully sliding off the towel as she sunk in, and let herself relax.  "It's okay, you can turn back around now," she called to Draco once she was sure only her head, neck, and shoulders were visible.

He sauntered over to her with a smirk; dirty, delicious visions popping into his head as he imagined what was under those thick bubbles.  "So what's up with you, Granger," he said.  "Why did you want me to stay?"

She closed her eyes.  "I enjoy your company," she said, "as crazy as that sounds.  I just wanted to talk."

"Alright," he said, his smirk turning into a true smile.  "Let's talk."

*~*~*~*

Anyone who saw Draco or Hermione over the next few days would know that both of them had changed.  Neither could be seen without a suspicious goofy smile, although Draco was better at hiding his, and there was something about the way they looked at each other that was different.  They were very careful not to let anyone see them together; they didn't think people could handle the idea of a Slytherin and a Gryffindor being attracted to each other just yet.  

Hermione and Draco were both very lucky in that during these first few days after the events of the Christmas Ball and the day after, none of their close friends were at school to see their immediate changes.  However, they could never be too chary and made sure to appear to still be enemies to everyone else.  Even so, they could usually both be found during the majority of the end of the holidays either in the Prefects' bath or in the library, at a very secluded table towards the back.  

Every night, regardless of whether Draco was there, Hermione went to the library to work on her school assignments.  Quiet as the Gryffindor Common room was with most people gone, she ended up needing a reference text and going to the library anyway, so it was easier to just go in the first place.  

Two nights before the day term was to start again, Draco found her in the abandoned library, practically in tears, scribbling manically on a piece of parchment.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong?" he said as he approached her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders and wiping a stray tear from her smooth cheek.  "It's late, you should go back to your dormitory.  You've been working all day."

"No, I can't stop now!" she protested, shrugging his arm away and continuing to scrawl frenziedly.  "I have so much work to do…I'll never get it all done in time.  And if I don't get it done in time, I'll fail.  If I fail, then I can't be Head Girl.  And if I can't be Head Girl, how will I ever get to be the first female Minister of Magic by the time I'm thirty-five?"

Draco raised a skeptical eyebrow and took a seat next to a sniveling Hermione.  "So basically what you're trying to tell me is that your entire future lies in the hands of a Transfiguration essay due in two weeks?"

She shot him an icy glare.  "Don't make fun," she scolded.  "And this isn't the only thing I have to do.  This is just the beginning.  I thought I had most of my work done, but then I realized I have two papers due for Arithmancy, one for Muggle Studies, and about four hundred pages of reading to do for History of Magic!"

"And is any of this actually required?" he asked irreverently.

"Yes!" she shot back.  "It's _all_ required!  And I'll never, ever finish in time.  I need to stop sleeping, stop eating, and just work!"

"Hermione, this is crazy!" he cried, running a hand through his hair.  "What happened to you that made you so uptight?"

She looked at him with tears in her eyes.  "You really think I'm uptight?" she asked in a small voice.  She'd always known she was opinionated and determined with a fabulous work ethic and a brain to match, but uptight?  That was more or less telling her had a stick up her ass and she didn't even realize it (the worst kind of stick is an invisible stick), or like she was a boring person no one wanted anything to do with.

Draco let out a low breath and stroked her soft cheek.  "No," he said, "I don't.  And I'm sorry I even said anything, but seeing you this crazy worries me."

 "So you do care about me," she said contentedly, smiling smugly.

Bright blue eyes met her own chocolate ones.  "So it would seem," he said with a smirk.  "But you, my dear, are not working any more as of right now."

"Oh?" she said.  "And what are you going to do about it if I do?"

He grinned and placed playful lips on her neck, moving slowly up towards her jaw line, increasing the pressure when he heard Hermione gasp and softly moan.  

"You like that?" he whispered right into her ear before gently kissing her earlobes, sending intense shivers up her spine.

"Not at all," she gasped in return, feeling him smile behind those magic lips.  She laid a gentle finger on his chin, tilting his face to her lips, before pressing them on his warm, delicious mouth.  His kiss was more passionate than it had been the other night; it was somehow possible that there was more fire ignited between them.

Slowly but surely, Draco stood up, taking Hermione with him, and began to gradually lower her onto the table in front of them.  Hermione opened her lips a little wider for Draco's tongue to enter, exploring every hidden crevasse of her mouth.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his body down onto hers.  

She couldn't think about a single thing.  His lips danced around her encouraging face, leaving nothing but a trail of sweet, desirable wetness.  Draco's touch erased all fears and thoughts she had…_especially when he kisses my neck like that!_ She sighed, letting out another moan.  

She let him continue to kiss her for awhile longer, unable to resist the pleasure she felt.  There was so much heat rising in Hermione's body, she was almost positive that at any moment she would explode, or catch on fire, or…or…she lost her train of thought again as Draco placed quick, delicate kisses on her shoulders and collarbone, moving his mouth down towards her shirt collar.  

Hermione bit her lip in anticipation as he began to slide his hands up her shirt and sending shivers wherever his fingers touched, not wanting him to stop but knowing that if he didn't, it would undoubtedly go too far.  "Draco, please," she whispered.  "Not tonight."

He raised his lips and looked at her with intense eyes, letting in a shuddered breath.  "Aww, and we were just getting started," he said sardonically in a low voice.  Despite his words, she could see in his eyes that he knew she was right.  Carefully he stood up, lacing Hermione's fingers in his own as he tenderly pulled her up too.  

"What time is it?" Hermione yawned, unexpectedly drowsy.  She wrapped her arms around Draco's middle, leaning against his chest for the support she suddenly needed.

He put one hand around her back and checked his wristwatch on the other.  "It is…almost one in the morning."

"No wonder I'm sleepy," she said with a smile.  "Do you want to walk me back to my dormitory?"

He lightly kissed the top of her head, stroking her soft hair.  "I'm a Slytherin, I'm not supposed to know where Gryffindor tower is."

"It's okay, Draco," she murmured, growing more and more tired by the second.  "I trust you."

_I trust you._  Draco's eyes widened at the sound of those three simple words.  _I trust you.  Did she, now?  He wasn't used to being trusted—not by his so-called friends, not at home, not anywhere.  _

"Well…alright," he agreed after getting over the shock.  "I think you'll need the support anyway, Miss I-Fall-Asleep-After-Every-Makeout-Session-With-Draco.  Do I bore you that much?" he asked with a smile, looking down at the lovely young woman he held in his arms.

"No," she giggled.  "And two isn't enough to declare it _every, anyway."_

"Oh yeah?" he said, abruptly picking her up off her feet and holding her as if she were a priceless treasure.  "How about we try for one more, and then call it every?"

"No fair!" she exclaimed, wrapping long arms around his neck.  "You only say that because I'm falling asleep as it is and you want something to hold against me."

"And why would I want that, dear Hermione?" Draco wondered with a smirk, making his way out of the library with a practically limp Hermione in his arms.

"So I'll always do as you please," she whispered, bringing her lips to his ear before giving him a hard, heart-wrenching kiss on the mouth.  "There.  That's all you're getting, and I mean it."

Draco's mouth opened in astonishment.  He had never felt like this about anyone and it scared the shit out of him.  But that, he kept telling himself, was half the fun.


	7. The Return of Old Friends

****

**Author's Note:**** It feels very odd not to put an author's note at the top of the chapter, but today I'm mixing things up a bit and putting it at the bottom.  What I have to say feels better at the bottom, so as not to taint your ideas of this chapter before it even begins.        xxx*Anya*xxx**

****

**Chapter Seven**

**The Return of Old Friends**

****

"Putting nine people in a very small house for extended periods of time is an extremely bad idea," was the first thing out of Ron's mouth when he returned from his holiday.

"I'll make a note of that," Hermione said dryly, holding her arms out to embrace her friend.  "Happy New Year, by the way.  Were your holidays that bad?"

"They couldn't have been worse than mine," Harry chimed in, approaching them and wrapping his arms around Hermione for a quick hug.  She looked at her friend, concerned.  Harry looked worn and weary, as if he'd gone through a great deal in a very short amount of time.  She'd seen him worn out before; Harry had certainly gone through enough since Hermione had known him, but this was a different sort.  It wasn't really physical, but rather more emotional, and she wondered what could have possibly happened.

"I'm sorry to hear that, guys," she said sympathetically, adding with a small smile, "I'm really glad to see you both."

Harry's face brightened a considerable amount, but he seemed to be at a loss for words because it was Ron who spoke.  "We're glad to see you too, Hermione.  Things haven't been quite the same without our know-it-all best friend around.  How were your holidays?"

Hermione bit back a smile and felt a blush start to creep up her cheeks.  "They were…not bad, actually.  Really not bad."

The boys looked at her oddly, exchanging confused glances with each other.  "Did anything interesting happen?" Ron pressed.

"Er…there was a ball," she said ineptly.  "And I got loads of work done."

"Oh yeah, Cho's friend Erin sent her an owl telling her about the ball," Harry recalled.  Hermione didn't miss the look of sorrow crossing his face at Cho's name, but she ignored it.  There would be more time for talking later; Harry wasn't offering details on what was so bad about his holiday and Hermione didn't want to annoy him within five minutes of seeing him again.

"Erin Pallor?" she asked abruptly as they started walking up to Gryffindor tower.  

"Yes, actually.  I didn't know you knew her," Harry said, surprised.  "She's a good friend of Cho's, but she's a seventh-year also, and a Ravenclaw…how do you know her?"

"Oh, we're not friends or anything…it's a rather funny story, she and I switched dates somewhere along the way at the ball," Hermione said awkwardly.

"Switched dates?" Harry asked brusquely.  "But she told Cho she went with Malfoy!"

"Ew, Hermione," Ron groaned.  "You went to the ball with Malfoy?  But you hate him!  And he's not exactly fond of you, either!  How much had you been drinking?"

"I did not go to the ball with Malfoy, and I didn't drink anything," Hermione said harshly.  _Stupid, stupid, stupid_, she said mentally.  __

"But you said—"

"Never mind what I said or didn't say," she snapped.  "But I, for one, have some work left to do.  I'll be in the library."  With that, she turned on her heel and stormed up the stairs in a huff, completely embarrassed.

*~*~*~*

"Hullo Draco," a simpering voice said behind the exhausted blonde.  "Did you miss me while I was in Majorca?"

Draco sighed internally.  He'd been up almost all night finishing his Potions paper; he was in no mood to play games with Pansy Parkinson.  "I take it you had a good holiday," he said sullenly without turning around.

He tensed as he felt heavily perfumed arms wrap around his shoulders.  "It was alright, but it would have been better if you were with me," Pansy whispered in what she must have thought was a very sexy, sultry voice.  "We would have had so much _fun together."_

He turned around slowly, knowing exactly what Pansy meant by 'fun'.  'Fun' was all they had when they were together.  "Pansy, that's been finished for a long time.  I really don't want to deal right now, if you'll be so kind as to leave me alone?" 

She stepped back, a mixture of anger and hurt flashing across her face.  "Well, fine!" she practically shouted, stomping up to her dormitory.  "Have it your way!  Just know this, Draco—I was the best you'll ever have!"

He rolled his eyes, making a very rude gesture in the direction of Pansy's dormitory.  He ran his hands through his hair, making a mental note not only to badly maim her (the damn cock tease), but also Potty and the Weasel.  He'd seen the beginnings of their glorious reunion with Hermione on his way to his own dormitory that morning; the three of them together made him sick.  Screw Harry Potter and his pathetic excuse for a best friend.  He wanted Hermione all to himself, and Draco was a person who was used to getting what he wanted. 

In all honesty, he probably could have finished his Potions paper in half the time if he hadn't been thinking about _her so much.  The previous night was…incredible, at the least, and Draco was practically dripping with lust.  Who gave a damn if she was a Mud—er, Muggle-born?  _

Well, so a lot of people did, at least the Slytherins.  But pureblood, Mudblood, in the end they were all wizards, right?  Right.  He didn't care!  

Well, so he cared once.  But not anymore!  Now all he saw was her radiant beauty, her unmatchable intellect, her ability to make anyone smile.  She was his spring thaw.  

Well, so they weren't _technically together.  At least, he didn't think so.  He wanted them to be…but it would be hard.  They could only see each other in secret, he knew that.  No one could know.  They weren't ready to handle an inter-house relationship, especially when they came from two houses with such, er, strong and extreme dynamics._

A thought sprang into his mind: star-crossed lovers.  That's what they were.  Just like Romeo and Juliet, from that Muggle book Hermione loved so much.  He heard her sweet, melodic voice in his thoughts: _Destined for a downfall but with the ability to change their world_, she'd said.  He didn't want a downfall, he thought bitterly.  But he did want Hermione, and changing the world never hurt anyone.

Well, so it did.  But Draco didn't care.  

*~*~*~*

"Please tell me what that was all about," Harry begged when Hermione made her return to the Gryffindor common room several hours later.

"What was all about, Harry?" she asked innocently, setting her books down on a table and plopping into a squashy armchair next to her friend.

"You know," he said awkwardly, "Before.  When you made some comment about going to the Christmas Ball with Malfoy and then more or less told me and Ron to sod off.  Care to explain?"

"Not really," she said irritably, running tired hands through her wavy hair.  "Because there's nothing to explain.  You must have heard me wrong, I went with this Ravenclaw boy named Tom—who is now coincidentally dating Erin.  That's what I meant to say."

"Okay," said Harry, although from the looks of things he didn't believe her one bit.

"You have a bit of explaining to do yourself, if I recall," Hermione said with sudden interest, leaning forward.

"I don't know what you mean," he said tautly, shifting his gaze to a speck of dust on the floor.

"Come on, Harry," she pleaded, looking at him with big eyes.  He tensed; not only did he try to look everywhere but into those huge, chocolate eyes, but as it was still holiday she was wearing a crimson V-neck sweater that hinted at a little more than he was sure she'd intended.  She never intended any of it.  He knew he must be blushing because she looked at him quizzically and added, "We tell each other everything, don't we?  You said your holidays were awful.  Keeping it inside isn't going to help."

Harry knew she was right, and yet…

"Not yet," he said.  "It's too soon.  No one knows, except Cho."

Hermione sat back, biting her lower lip.  "Alright," she sighed, "but promise me that when you're ready to talk, you'll come to me, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, although he wasn't sure if he could keep that promise.  He knew Hermione was hiding something as well, and suddenly he felt like he didn't know her too well anymore.  It wasn't a good feeling.

*~*~*~*

"What are you going to do without all that free time you must have had?" Ron wondered on their way to the Great Hall (Harry was with Cho and had said he'd meet them down there).  

Hermione raised an eyebrow.  "What free time, I spent most of it studying!"

He shook his head.  "Typical Hermione," he said disapprovingly.  "You've got to learn how to have some fun.  I mean it.  One day your head is going to realize it doesn't have enough space for all that knowledge you stuff into it and explode."

"Kind of like the way you are about food, eh?" she commented.  

"Not fair!" Ron cried.  "I'm a growing boy, I need my nourishment."

She rolled her eyes and walked a little faster.  Sometimes she didn't know what to do with Ron.  He was Harry's absolute best friend, and hers too, she supposed.  He meant well, it was just…they didn't always get along so well.  Not for lack of trying, obviously, they sometimes just seemed to butt heads.  

"Ugh," he groaned suddenly.  "There's one person I didn't miss.  Quick, before he sees us!"  He ran behind a pillar, pulling on the arm of Hermione's robes.  She looked where Ron had been looking and saw none other than Draco (_Or is he just Malfoy again now that everyone's back? She wondered), flanked once again by his faithful cronies Crabbe and Goyle._

"Honestly, Ron," she hissed, "Don't be ridiculous.  I am not going to hide from Malfoy, he isn't going to actually hurt us!"

"You don't know that," Ron said warningly.  

"Well, I'm not waiting," she said stubbornly, rolling her eyes again and taking off down the hallway.  Her heart started pounding in her chest as they got closer to each other.  What would he do?  What would he say?  Would this be the end of Draco-and-Hermione before they'd even gotten started?

"Granger," he said silkily, nodding in recognition as he approached her.  

_Well, I suppose that answers my question_, she thought wryly.

"Malfoy," she said, nodding back to him.  

"Hey," he said quickly, stopping before her.  Crabbe and Goyle looked at him with expressions even more confused than the ones they normally wore.  "What was the Potions homework?"

Caught off her guard at being approached by Draco in plain public view, she fought to hide a smile before answering, "An essay, two rolls of parchment minimum, on the uses of all the different types of nightshade."

"Thanks," he said with a half-smile.  Hermione's smile escaped when she looked at his eyes; they seemed to promise that the winter holidays wouldn't end their meetings.  As he left, Hermione's smile broadened when saw him smack Goyle upside the head and heard him snap, "What are you suggesting, half-wit?  I couldn't very well have asked either of you two idiots!"  

Cautiously, Ron came out from behind his pillar.  "Was that Malfoy?" he asked tentatively, approaching Hermione.

"Yes," Hermione said dreamily, mentally whacking sense back into herself and asking suspiciously, "Why d'you ask?"

Ron shrugged; he looked completely befuddled.  "He approached you, and you two almost got along.  I think I'm going to have a stroke."

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "Come on," she groaned.  "It's not that big a deal, he's still…well, if we don't get going we're going to miss all the food."

Ron followed Hermione into the Great Hall, feeling as if there were a chunk of his best friend's life he was suddenly missing.

****

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**Author's Note:**** Okay, now it's time for my author's note, which is sort of to explain why I put in such an uneventful, rather boring chapter (well, it's boring in my mind).  See, I felt like there needed to be an interlude to help the story move back into normal, non-holiday Hogwarts pace where Draco and Hermione were given a bit of time to adjust to not being able to see each other nearly any time they wanted.  So I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, but I will completely understand if you decide to throw rocks at me instead.  Adios!!               xxx*Anya*xxx**


	8. And Oh, The Tales They Tell

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**Author's Note:**** Thank God for weekends. That is all I have to say. So yeah, here's chapter 8…nice and fluffy. Not everything will be in this story…but I do like writing fluff (as you all can doubtlessly tell).    xxx*Anya*xxx**

**Chapter Eight**

**And Oh, the Tales They Tell**

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          After term started up again, the weeks passed by quickly and neither Hermione nor Draco saw nearly as much of the other as they would have liked.  Their names were no longer Draco and Hermione; but instead they were back to being just Malfoy and Granger.  They saw each other only in the Great Hall and in Potions, except for very sporadic encounters in the hallways.  In fact, the only thing that kept them sure that what had happened over the holidays hadn't been a dream were the quick stolen glances, the not-quite-hidden smiles, the "accidental-on-purpose" arm brushes, and the way their eyes softened when they saw the other person.

          Hermione's recurring dreams had started up again, but now instead of being intense and intimidating, they were sweet and tender.  Craving his touch, even if it was only in a dream, she started leaving the common room to go to bed right after she finished her work rather than staying to talk with Harry and Ron.  It wasn't like her at all and they knew it, but after she explained (petulantly, for effect) that her course load was exhausting, they found it a little more plausible and left her alone.

          Gradually, the awkwardness the Harry, Ron, and Hermione had felt at the end of the holidays faded and it came back to be almost as though nothing had changed.  All three of them knew that they weren't _quite as open as each other as they used to be, sharing most of their lives but keeping a little for themselves as well, but they assumed it was just a natural part of growing up.  _

          In some ways, they'd be right.

*~*~*~*

          "Hermione," Ron moaned, tugging on her arm.  It was a Saturday afternoon almost four weeks after the winter holidays had ended and the weather was taking a nice, brisk leave from its usual bitter chill.  "Come with me and watch the Quidditch practice, you always do!  What am I going to do for company?  I'll be all alone!" 

          "I know Ron," she sighed, "and honestly I'd love to, but I have so much work to do for Arithmancy—"

          Harry cut her off.  "Hermione, please.  We have some new tactics and I really want to know what you think.  It—it means a lot to me that you approve."

          Hermione sighed again.  "Fine," she grumbled.  "But not for very long!  I'm coming inside once the sun goes down, got that?"

          "Yes," both boys muttered, and so the Golden Trio headed out to the Quidditch pitch.

*~*~*~*

          "Ron," Hermione whispered after about an hour. 

          "Shhh, not now, I'm watching the game!" Ron said quickly, patting her shoulder.  "Go, go, Gryffindor!" he shouted suddenly, punching the air, when Alicia scored a goal.

          Hermione rolled her eyes.  "Ron, it is _not a game, it is a mere practice, and I just need to ask you a quick, simple question."_

          "Oi, fine," he groaned, as if she'd asked him to partake in a loathsome chore.  "What is it, Hermione?"

          "Er, I need to use the bathroom," she said gauchely.  She didn't know why, but there had always been something awkward and uncomfortable about telling others when one needed to use the restroom.  At least, that's how it was among most girls.

          "Use the locker rooms," Ron suggested without looking away from the practice (which wasn't even very exciting).

          "That's okay?" she asked.

          "Yeah," he said absently.  "Just go, so you can come back."

          "Well…alright then," she agreed, and made her way back towards the castle and the locker rooms.  

          When Hermione stepped inside the locker rooms, which she had forgotten were perpetually warm, she immediately removed her cloak and pushed up the sleeves of her blouse.  Following a sign that read: SHOWERS AND TOILETS in large, bold print with an arrow pointing to the right (_Clear and concise, Hermione thought approvingly, _although with dolts like Crabbe and Goyle playing on their Quidditch team I suppose it's necessary_), the rooms and surrounding halls got increasingly steamier.  _

Much to her dismay, once she stepped into the Showers and Toilets room, beads of sweat started to form around her face and she could feel her hair go limp.  She could see why Harry and his teammates always looked so flushed when they first came out to the Quidditch pitch; the room felt like a sauna.

          "Hello?" a voice called suddenly—a male voice.

          Hermione spun around, startled, only to see Draco Malfoy emerging from the shower wearing a towel…and only a towel.  Heat flared in her body and it was all she could do to keep from drooling on the spot (however she _did_ automatically imagine what might lay beneath that fluffy towel, but he would never know that).  His wet, light blonde hair hung sexily in his eyes, which looked more intense than usual for some reason.  His hard chest, stomach, and arm muscles were flecked with drops of water and enveloped in pale, smooth skin that looked supple and just as luxurious as all those beautiful things he owned.  No, more so.  You couldn't buy this.  

          "I heard footsteps," he said softly, admiring her unexpected beauty as his unfortunate arrogance allowed him to realize she was admiring him as well.

          "Sorry," she stammered, knowing she didn't sound sorry at all.  "I didn't mean to…" she paused, feeling her cheeks begin to flush.  "I was just coming in here to…"

          Draco folded his arms on his chest (Hermione longed to reach out and touch it) and a slow smirk spread across his devilishly handsome face.  Hermione was so _cute_ when she couldn't get a grip on herself!  He congratulated himself, knowing that he was probably the first person she'd ever seen nearly naked—unless, Potter?  Nah, Golden Boy didn't count—and that he was also probably the first person she'd ever really tripped over her own words for.  He remembered how, several weeks ago, he'd wanted to see Granger some way other than cool, collected, and perfectly poised.  Well, this was it.  

          "Yes?" he prompted beguilingly, leaning seductively against the shower stall.

          Her eyes narrowed.  "The things you get off on, you annoying little—" she started, then halted briefly, realizing _two can play this game.  Let's see how smug and secure Draco is when…_

          "It's very hot in here," she said suddenly in a breathy voice, untying the red and gold tie from around her neck.  Noticing Draco's eyes widen slightly in surprise, she smiled provocatively and, dropping the tie on the wet tiled floor, undid the top four buttons of her blouse painfully slowly.  As she did so, some of her hair fell over her shoulders (making her look even more irresistible to Draco, whose heart was pounding wildly in his chest at that point).  Blushing faintly when she realized her pink lace bra was peeking out, she bit her lip and looked at Draco through a veil of damp curls, as though waiting for his approval.

          "Dammit, Granger," he rasped, finally approaching her.  The approval she was looking for was written out quite obviously in his eyes.  "The things you get off on."

          She smiled widely and cupped his face in her small hands, pressing his wet lips to her own.  "I've missed you, Draco" she whispered as he kissed her forehead, nose, and chin.

          In between kisses, he flashed her a million-Galleon smile and murmured, "I know."  

He kissed her again, harder this time, and with skilled, deft fingers he managed to undo the rest of the buttons on her shirt and in one fluid motion it was off her body and on the floor with her tie.  He broke away from her lips and gazed admiringly at her graceful curves and soft, flat stomach before heat and desire overtook him.  He began to place tender kisses on her bare midriff, erratically stopping to lightly lick the skin around her navel.  All of this happened while he held her breasts in his hands, massaging them gently.  The sensation caused Hermione's already ragged breath to shudder and moan.  

The next thing she knew, Draco had her pressed up against a wall in only her undergarments, frantically locked in a mad torrent of skin and lips.  Tie, blouse, sweater-vest, skirt, tights, and shoes lay in a rumpled heap on the floor.  They'd already tripped over it twice.  

Suddenly she was drawn out of the world she came to love, where no thoughts, no fears, and certainly no complex spells existed; all that mattered in this world were physical and emotional ambiance and desires.  She heard footsteps and a soft rumble of voices approaching.

"Draco," she said mellifluously as his lips, which had been on her mouth only seconds before, passionately caressed her neck.

"Mm?" he mumbled.

          "Draco, I think the Quidditch team is done practicing!" she said more urgently as the voices slowly grew louder.  

          "Shit," he whispered, finally letting her go.  "You'd better go."

          But Hermione didn't need to hear that; she had already gotten her shoes on and her cloak was wrapped tightly around her body, leaving nothing to suspicion.  

          "Where are the rest of your—"

          "Clothes?  Right here," she said, motioning to her right arm.  

          He smiled.  "Okay, well, there's an emergency exit just past that shower stall there."  He kissed her once more, gently this time.  "I have to see you again."

          "We have Potions together tomorrow," she called, already halfway out the door.  "But I'm sure we can think of something better!  You know where to find me."

          And with that, she was gone, leaving the Gryffindor Quidditch team to wonder why Draco Malfoy was standing in  a dreamlike state in the middle of the  common  shower room, practically nude.             

*~*~*~*

          "And so we have found her," Ron said rather irritably when he and Harry made it back up to Gryffindor tower.  "Hermione, I've never known you to be one who ditches her friends."

          "Yeah," Harry added, "Where were you?  I looked at the stands and there's Ron, but no you!"

          "Do you know," said Ron with narrowed eyes, "how utterly useless and embarrassing it is to yell 'Go, Go, Gryffindor' all by yourself?"

          Hermione eyed her red-haired friend.  "Ron, you _always yell 'Go, Go, Gryffindor' all by yourself," she pointed out.  "And I told you, I had to use the bathroom."_

          "For an _hour?" he asked dubiously.  "Hermione, I don't know what you've been eating, but—"_

          She rolled her eyes.  "No not for an hour, Ron, honestly.  I, er, realized I had an essay to finish and went to the library.  I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving."

          Harry shook his head.  "Whatever, Hermione."

          "Are you angry with me?" she asked nervously.  It wasn't like either of them to get so worked up over something so little.

          "No," they assured her, but as Harry said, "I was just disappointed not to see one of my best friends out there to cheer me on."

          "I'm always there at your games, though," she protested.  "This is so ridiculous."

          Suddenly Ron burst out laughing.  "Sorry," he said in between fits of joviality, "but…in the locker rooms…Malfoy…"

          Hermione felt her face grow hot.  "What?"

          Harry rolled his eyes.  "Ron, come off it, it wasn't that big a deal."

          "You have no idea…he looked like such an idiot!" Ron gasped.

          The shorter boy shook his head.  "All that happened," he explained to the perplexed expression on Hermione's face, "Was that the team went to the showers and Malfoy was standing in the middle of the floor looking like a deer in headlights in only a towel.  Alicia told him to sod off because it was Gryffindor time and he shouldn't even be there in the first place, and he just turns around with this ridiculous grin on his face and walks out into the bitter cold, without a word.  With just his towel on.  He certainly didn't seem to be in his right state of mind, but it wasn't nearly as funny as Ron's making it out to be."

           Hermione stifled a grin.  "Oh…you know Malfoy," she said coolly, "He's never in his right state of mind."

         She felt a pang of guilt at speaking ill of him and heard it distinctly in the hesitant tone of her voice, but the boys seemed to take no notice.  

          Their eminent cluelessness was, after all, something Hermione had always heavily relied on.


	9. Gryffindor Versus Slytherin

**Author's Note:**** To be back on the Internet again feels SO GOOD!  I have been deprived this whole week, because a) I've been studying like a madwoman for midterms (this coming week—AHHH!) and b) my Internet had been down since Monday.  ALSO, after I posted chapter 8 I realized I wasn't quite done writing chapter 9!!  In other words, not such a great place to be.  So after a lot of writing, re-writing, and other forms of torture (except I like it a lot), I am back with chapter 9.  OH and Melissa, I semi-dedicate this to you—I used strumpet =).       xxx*Anya*xxx**

**Chapter Nine**

**Gryffindor Versus Slytherin**

Saturday dawned bright and clear; a perfect day for a Quidditch match.  As the second Gryffindor match of the season (they'd flattened Hufflepuff back in November), all of Gryffindor House was buzzing with anxious excitement.  If they won this match (and, as Ron was quick to point out, they'd never lost to "Malfoy's shoddy team"), they'd be playing Ravenclaw in April for the Quidditch Cup.  

          As usual, the team entered the Great Hall together and was greeted by cheers from three quarters of the room.  The Slytherins, to no one's surprise, booed loudly.  Some fourth-year Gryffindor boys who reminded Harry, Ron, and Hermione a lot of Fred and George took it upon themselves to chuck what looked suspiciously like miniature Venus flytraps at the Slytherin table, yelling, "Take that, you mangy curs!"  

          Other than that, breakfast was uneventful.  Hermione and Ron walked Harry out to the back doors so he could go down to the changing rooms and Hermione distinctly heard a drawling voice hiss, "Ready to die, Potter?"

          She shook her head and watched the tall blond boy saunter past them, purposefully knocking into Ron's shoulder.  He looked over his shoulder to scowl at the two boys, but Hermione could have sworn she saw him _wink at her._

_How debonair,_ she thought, biting back a smile.

Harry said something to Ron that sounded very much like, "quit rubbing your shoulder, he may be foul but he's not poisonous!" Hermione blindly continued walking with them, thinking about how Quidditch would never be the same now that she'd, er, _experienced_ the locker rooms firsthand.

"What?" she said, realizing that Harry had asked her a question.  

          "Just making sure you'd be in the stands today," Harry repeated.

          "Yeah, we don't want it to end up like last time when you went to the bathroom for an hour," Ron added.

          "Ron, for the last time I was not in the bathroom for an hour!" Hermione exclaimed, "But of course I'll be there.  Well, here we are, you'd better go down.  Best of luck to you, Harry.  I'll be cheering you on."

          He smiled and gave them both a little wave before heading down to the changing  rooms.  

Hermione and Ron took their usual seats in the stands near Neville and Hagrid, where everyone was buzzing with excitement, waiting for the game to begin.  Three-quarters of the students were proudly bearing crimson rosettes on the lapels of their cloaks (except for Hagrid who was, as usual, covered in them) and all of Gryffindor beamed at their Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw supporters.

Everyone was bundled up to some degree; the weather was beautiful but brisk.  Hermione looked sharp and pretty, as well as warm, in her favorite red top, gray tweed pants, and a very long gold scarf.

"Go, go, Gryffindor!" she shouted, getting into the spirit.  

"Oh yeah, I _always_ shout 'go, go, Gryffindor' all by myself," Ron said sarcastically.

"During practice, yes you do," she retorted.  "It's pretty pointless to yell when they're the only ones playing."

"It motivates them!" he protested.

"It distracts them!" she argued.  "I can't even count the number of times Katie or Alicia or any of the rest have gotten hit in the side of the head with the Quaffle because they had to stop and wonder who on earth could possibly be shrieking like that, making such a horrible noise!"

"I do not shriek," Ron said sullenly, scowling.

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "Ron, you're completely missing the point," she said disdainfully.

But they were interrupted because Ben Jordan (Lee Jordan's brother who was now a third-year Gryffindor and had impeccably taken over Lee's commentating position when he left Hogwarts) then shouted, "Okay everyone, it's a great day for Quidditch, we've got Gryffindor vs. Slytherin coming up just as soon as the teams make it out to the pitch—there they are!  Here comes Gryffindor; Captain Alicia Spinnet followed by her fellow Chasers Katie Bell and Tanna Morton—new to the team this year but HAVE YOU TAKEN A LOOK AT—sorry, Professor," he said sheepishly as Professor McGonagall gave him a threatening glare and continued, "Beaters Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper—will they ever live up to Fred and George's legacy?  Oh sorry, boys, you're great, no pressure!  Anyway, following them is Keeper Alan Cooper and our practically undefeated, infamous Seeker, Harry Potter!"

The crowd cheered as the team made their way onto the Quidditch pitch, all of whom looked pleased but very nervous.  Hermione could practically see Harry's jaw clenched up as he fought down the unwelcome feeling of apprehension that came to him before every game (even if he never said so).

"And now, here comes the Slytherin team—" Ben began in a bored monotone.  However, he was drowned out by Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw jeering and booing, "—and Seeker, Draco Malfoy."

"Captains, shake hands," Madame Hooch said briskly.  "Mount your brooms…on my whistle…three—two—one—"

Hermione and Ron grinned at each other and watched Harry's Firebolt zoom into the air faster and higher than any other broom—including Malfoy's state of the art Nimbus Two Thousand and Three.

"Yeh, Harry!" Hagrid boomed from behind them.  "Tha's my boy!"

Like all Gryffindor-Slytherin matches, this one had the unmistakable buzzing feeling of tension and insane competition.  Every single person in the stadium sat on the edge of their seats, watching wide-eyed in anticipation.

"Slytherin in possession, Montague catches the Quaffle, he's really picking up speed, and—oh man, he _just misses the Bludger from Kirke—nice shot there, too bad you missed—"_

"Teaches me to take on another Jordan to do the commentary," Professor McGonagall muttered, giving him a sharp look.

"I know, I know, Professor, biased commentating is the fast track to Hell—right then, Katie Bell of Gryffindor has the Quaffle…passes Warrington, Montague's catching up, Crabbe takes a swing at a Bludger—OH NO YOU DON'T, YOU FOUL LITTLE—and ohhh, NICE, Sloper, he beat back that Bludger, Bell zooms through—HAH!  That's gotta hurt, Crabbe hit square in the face with the Bludger, perhaps a black eye will improve his look—kidding, Professor—anyway, Bell still has the Quaffle, she's headed for the goal…"

Loud cheering emanated from the stands as Katie zoomed past Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, and scored.

"Ten-zero to Gryffindor!" Ben whooped.

Hermione looked up to where Draco and Harry were hovering.  Harry had a look of great concentration on his face, eyes out for the Snitch all the while.  Draco had his eyes on Harry, because if Harry saw the Snitch, so did he.  Hermione bit her lip; of course she wanted Harry to get it, of course she wanted Gryffindor to win, but…Draco _always_ lost to Harry.  It would make him feel so good if he won, just this once…

_Don't think like that,_ she scolded herself.  _This isn't a Harry-Draco game, this is a Gryffindor-Slytherin game and I want my own house to win._

"Thirty-zero to Gryffindor as Bell scores again—she's really in her element today!  Ugh, Warrington takes the Quaffle, he's headed back up the pitch—COME ON, SLOPER, THAT'S WHAT BLUDGERS ARE FOR!!"

He danced out of McGonagall's reaches just in time to shout, "There's nothing between him and the goal posts now except Alan Cooper, and he's really speeding up now— NICE SAVE, COOPER!"

Suddenly Harry's gaze sharpened; he could see the Snitch flitting not even twenty feet from the ground, near one of the Ravenclaw barriers.  He felt the usual rush of excitement flood his body as he tore off, never taking his eyes off it.  After a few seconds Draco realized what Harry was doing and headed towards the Snitch from the other direction.  

Hermione heard Ron let out a strangled gulping noise as he watched Harry and Malfoy dive towards the Snitch.  She grabbed his hand in sheer anticipation and squeezed; he squeezed back, both digging their nails in and each leaving a sharp pain in the other's palms that neither of them really noticed. 

"…looks like Potter and Malfoy spotted the Golden Snitch…"

They both tore through the air at such a quick speed that it was nearly impossible to tell who was closer.  Both teams stopped what they were doing to watch the two boys chase after the Snitch.  Everyone was watching.  Everyone except the four Beaters, who were having quite a job keeping the Bludgers away from everyone else.

Suddenly there was an increasingly loud roar coming from the base of the Ravenclaw stands.  The sound spread and rose, and it took Harry a minute to realize he'd closed his fingers at last around the tiny, fluttering ball.  The boisterous cheers filled the stadium, completely drowning out groans from the Slytherins.

"WE WON!! WE WON!!" Ron cried, grabbing Hermione's face and firmly kissing both of her cheeks before she threw her arms around his neck, screaming hoarsely.

CRACK!

It was faint, but everybody heard it.

Goyle lost control of his Bludger at last.  It soared through the air, swooped past Harry, who was slowly floating to the ground, arm raised high over his head and a triumphant grin plastered across his face, and smacked right into Draco's left arm.  

"NO!" Kirke yelled as he lunged forward; the other Bludger slipped from his grasp and flew into the back of Draco's head, knocking him unconscious.

Ron breathed in sharply.  "Two Bludgers at once," he whispered, eyes wide.  "That's gotta hurt."

Hermione saw the whole thing in slow motion, and the next thing she knew she'd clapped a hand over her mouth and was running  blindly to where he'd fallen almost 15 feet to the ground (the fall alone breaking his right leg in two places, he later found out).

The entire stadium watched the bookish Gryffindor kneel at Draco's side (not even his team went to him that quickly), gently stroking his hair.

"Someone get Madam Pomfrey," she snapped when the Slytherin team finally approached them.  "He's badly hurt!"

*~*~*~*

Harry watched everything going on between them, heard everyone whispering about them, and felt like someone had taken a dull knife, stabbed it in his heart, and twisted.  So much for the elation of winning.  Hermione and Malfoy were now Hermione-and-Malfoy and no one had bothered to tell him.  Ew.  Had she no pride?  Draco only went out with slutty girls like Pansy Parkinson and that awful Miss Allegra.  Since when had Hermione Granger, _his_ Hermione, turned into some kind of strumpet?

Or maybe that was the problem: _his Hermione.  She'd never been __his, not really.  She was so beautiful, and smart, and kind…he should have taken her while he had the chance, especially now that things with Cho were…well…the way they were.  He was so stupid.  But _Malfoy_?_

*~*~*~*

As Madam Pomfrey scuttled down to the Quidditch field, Hermione's mind cleared and she realized with a jolt that she'd given their secret away.

_Oh, shit._

"Oh, Draco," she whispered when he still had not moved.  "I'm so sorry.  I gave it all away.  Everyone's going to hate us now, but that doesn't matter if you're not alright.  Please be okay, Draco.  Merlin, Draco…please be okay."

His eyes flickered open and he smiled.  "I didn't know you cared," he whispered.  "And why insult me?  It's just a few broken bones, I've had worse in my day."

Hermione wiped her wet cheeks.  "Of course I care, you arrogant little butthead!" she whispered.  "Of course I care."

*~*~*~*

When Hermione returned to Gryffindor Tower some time later, they were all celebrating Slytherin's defeat, but the moment she stepped through the portrait hole the party ceased; all eyes were on her.  She knew they were all thinking of the incident on the Quidditch field, but she said nothing.  Harry's eyes met hers for a brief moment; they were full of anger, hurt, and shame on his face that he was desperately trying to hide.

"I have nothing to say to you," he said icily.  He threw his butterbeer (doubtlessly he and Ron had snuck into Hogsmeade) in a corner and sulked off to his dormitory.

"Neither do I," said Ron sadly, following Harry.  "Honestly, Hermione…_Malfoy?" _

Hermione bit her lip, willing back tears.  _This isn't how it was supposed to go,_ she thought, plopping into her favorite chair.

Slowly the common room emptied until only Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati were left.  

"What?" Hermione demanded, glaring at them.

Parvati giggled.  

"Well," Lavender said with the smile one wears when one has a delicious secret, "It's about Draco, actually.  He's so hot.  Is he a good kisser?"

"UGH!" Hermione groaned, and with that she got up and stormed off.  

*~*~*~*

She walked around for awhile, just to blow off steam, and on her way back she ran into Harry.

"I thought you were in your dormitory," she said, her face softening.

"Yeah, and I thought you were off shagging Malfoy," he retorted.

"Harry, we're _not—"_

"I don't care.  You know how I feel about you and yet you still go off with that _bastard."_

"Harry, he and I are—are just friends," she said quietly, her heart racing.  She realized that this, however, was the only way she could keep her friends.

The last thing she wanted to do was lose her friends.

"Then how d'you explain what happened today?" he roared.

"He's my _friend_, Harry, I would have—I _have_—done the same for you," she said.  "He's really not so bad, once you get to know him."

"Hermione, I can't believe—"

"I'm not asking you to like him," she said seriously, taking one of his chapped hands in hers.  "But please don't have me because I do.  I'd really miss you."

He looked thoughtful for a minute and then, "_Malfoy, Hermione?  How on earth did __that happen?"_

She blushed and they walked down the hallway, still holding hands.  "We, er, kept running into each other over the holidays.  Things just sort of happened on their own."

"How come you didn't tell me?" he wondered.

"Because I knew you'd take it so well," she said dryly.

He grinned.  "Hey, what can I say?  Nobody messes with my girl."

And then he bent down and gently, timidly, kissed her mouth.  

"Oh my God," he said nervously.  "Hermione, I am so sorry.  I shouldn't have done that."

"No," she protested, her heart going out to him and the awkwardness he felt.  "It was nice."

Harry bit his lip (a habit he picked up from Hermione several years ago).  "Oh.  Okay."

They walked for a little longer, aimlessly wandering the halls of their beloved Hogwarts.  "Harry, what happened between you and Cho over Christmas?" Hermione asked abruptly.

Harry looked startled, and then took a breath.  "Well, actually, we—"

"Hey, what are you guys doing?" called a familiar voice.  She turned around to see Ron heading towards them, a slight pang of disappointment filling her (she wanted to know what happened!).  He stopped when he saw Hermione.  "Oh.  Um, your boyfriend's in the hospital wing till morning—he took quite a fall.  I just heard Pansy sobbing to Crabbe and Goyle about how he's going to be permanently brain damaged…funny, I thought he already was."

"We are just friends," Hermione said firmly.

"Whatever, no matter how you look at it, it's Malfoy and he's gross." 

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "I'm going to go see how Draco's doing," she mumbled before the conversation could improve.

"If you take more than half an hour, we're coming after you!" Ron called.  "And you won't like that!"

*~*~*~*

"Hey," she whispered, sliding onto the side of Draco's bed after several long minutes of convincing Madam Pomfrey that she would be quiet and brief.  "How are you feeling?"

"Ruddy marvelous!" he said, forcing a smile.  "My head hurts.  But other than that, I'm really fine.  I'm not a baby, you know."

He looked so indignant with his lower lip pursed out that Hermione had to bite back a small smile.  "I know you're not," she said sweetly, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.  "But Madam Pomfrey seems to think otherwise, and in the hospital wing, what she thinks is law."

Draco smiled for real then.  "How are Potter and Weasley?"

"You don't care about them," she said, brushing him off.

"You're right, I don't," he agreed.  "But I don't want you losing your best friends on my account."

She smiled.  "The Tin Man does have a heart, after all."

"Yes, well, don't get used to it."

"They're fine, or as fine as can be expected.  It took a lot of coaxing, but they seem to have faith that I have not gone over to the Dark Side and are willing to remain my friends," she said, lacing her fingers in his.  "They still hate you, though."

"Nice to know the finer things in life remain the same," he said dryly.  "You can tell them that the feeling will always be mutual."

         Suddenly Madam Pomfrey poked her head in the door.  "Come, Miss Granger," she said impatiently, "Master Malfoy needs his rest."

          "Let me just say goodbye," Hermione requested, and with a brisk huff, she left them in peace, mumbling under her breath about impertinent children.

          When she looked back at Draco, he had an odd look in his eye that went very well with his smirk.  "What?" she asked.

          "Nothing," said Draco, raising his eyebrows.  "But you made Madam Pomfrey leave so you could say goodbye."

          "I know, I was right here."

          "Am I getting my kiss or not?" he demanded.

          "There was no mention of a kiss!" Hermione said, but she was smiling.

          "I have a theory that it has the ability to cure the terrible headache brought about by plummeting fifteen feet to the ground at the blow of a Bludger," he said.

          "That's a very specific case, Master Malfoy," she commented.

          "Yes, well this is a very specific request.  Please?  We're wasting time, discussing my, ahem, brilliant theory," he said.

          She bit her lip, grinning, and brought her lips down to his for a slow, fervent kiss.  

          "Did it work?" she asked, sitting back up.

          He sighed.  "Alas, my theory is useless," he said in mock disappointment.  "But that was one hell of a—well hello, Madam Pomfrey, Hermione was just leaving."

          Hermione spun around.  "Yes, yes I was."

          The touch of Draco's hand squeezing hers made her face him one last time.  "Hey, Hermione?" he said, almost nervously.

          "Yeah?"

          "Um…thanks for caring about me."

          He looked at her expectantly, and almost instantly her face softened.  "I always will, Draco."

          She was almost out the door when she heard him say again, "Hey, Hermione?"

          "Yeah?"

          "Same to you."

**Author's Note****: The passage beginning at: '_"Oh, Draco," she whispered when he still had not moved'_ and ending at: '_"Of course I care, you arrogant little butthead!" she whispered. "Of course I care"' is an adapted form of a passage that appears in Tamora Pierce's In The Hand of the Goddess (great book!).  Felt like I should cite that.  Also, this was my first attempt at writing a Quidditch match—I hope I did it justice!  I know as of _****Phoenix**** Ginny and Ron are supposed to be on the team too, but I never really liked that.  So, hooray, tell me what you liked and what I can do better and I will be one happy Anya.          xxx*Anya*xxx    **


	10. The Aftermath of That Game

****

****

**Author's Note:**** Wow, you guys, I am sooo sorry it's taken me so long to get this up!  Real Life got in the way, as did a severe case of writer's block, but I've gotten this story at least semi-back on its feet again and I HOPE that my updates become more regular again.  There is no Draco/Hermione action in this, but don't worry, it's coming back soon; every chapter can't be a giant songfest between the two =p.  The spacing on this is WEIRD and for some reason my little spacer things aren't showing up.  I'm REALLY sorry, I don't know why this is happening.  But you can more or less tell when a new section's started, so just please bear with me.  As always, reviews are appreciated…    **

**xxx::Anya::xxx**

**Chapter Ten**

**The Aftermath of That Game**

****

Draco returned to the Slytherin common room early the next morning, only to be greeted by a very pleased-looking Blaise Zabini.

"Nice going Malfoy, shagging a Gryffindor," he said, slapping an exhausted Draco on the shoulder. 

Draco looked at him oddly.  "So…you don't care that she's a Mud—er, I mean, that she's Muggle-born?"

Blaise shrugged.  "Sex is sex, no matter who it's with."

"You disgust me," the blonde said dryly.  "And we're not exactly—well hello, Pansy."

The busty girl waltzed right up to him and slapped him hard across the face.

"I'm not quite sure I deserved that," he mumbled to Blaise, who snickered.

"Bastard," Pansy hissed.  "I don't know what you think you're playing at, with that Gryffindor Mudblood.  She's only going to end up hating you like I do."

"Pansy, the only reason you hate me is because I won't have you," Draco said silkily, and threw himself down into a large chair he secretly liked to think of as his throne (he was, after all, the Slytherin Prince).  "As for anyone else who would like to comment on whether or not I'm shagging Granger, I'd appreciate if you would get it over with now."

A few people passing through glanced at each other with raised eyebrows, but no one approached Draco.  No one ever did. 

"Come off it, Malfoy," Blaise said, "I was just giving you a hard time."

"I wasn't," Pansy muttered. 

Draco rolled his eyes.  "You just think this is funny, do you?" he snapped at Blaise.

The dark-haired boy flashed a rare smile.  "In a very un-funny sort of way."

"Are you going to torment her when I'm not around?"

Blaise smirked in a way that only Draco could really pull off.  "Who says I'll wait until you're not around?"

"Zabini," Draco said warningly.

He smiled, crossing his arms over his chest.  "You must really like this wench," he said.

The taller blond stood suddenly, a mix of anger and some other emotion Blaise couldn't quite place trailing across his handsome face.  "On second thought, do what you want and see if I give a damn," Draco snapped, crossing to the boys' corridor (a cold, dark stone hallway that was usually rather damp and led to the boys' dormitories—the girls had one on the other side of the common room).  "I know you'll take me quite literally, Zabini, so at least make it good!"

Days passed, and Draco and Hermione came to the realization that people thought their "friendship" was definitely on the odd side; they just decided not to say anything while either one of them was present.  Whether onlookers were afraid of Draco (or Hermione, who held a certain amount of authority as a prefect) or just thought it wasn't their business to comment, they would never know.

However, after they'd given people time to adjust to the idea that a Gryffindor and a Slytherin who were seemingly such polar opposites as Hermione and Draco, it gave them the means to stop pretending they hated each other and even say hello in the hallways. 

There were, of course, the people who disapproved, but neither Draco nor Hermione had to deal with them.  Yet.

"Today we will be making a potion called _Religo Foras_, more commonly known as the Relaxing Draught," Professor Snape said to his Gryffindor-Slytherin sixth year Potions class in his nasal voice.  "Its name is self-explanatory; it is used to aid in one's relaxation when one is in a severe state of stress.  Its degrees of strength and effectiveness vary depending on the intensity of its ingredients.  In class today, the Religo Foras that each of you makes will be a weak one.  Can anyone tell me the side effects of an overdose of this potion?"

As usual, Hermione was the only one with her hand raised.

"Anyone besides Miss Granger?" Snape said almost desperately.  He hated that Hermione was so intelligent; it irked him that she probably knew more about Potions than he did.  Of course, she didn't have all the practical experience that he did, but whether that was a good or bad thing was yet to be discovered.  "No?  Fine.  Tell us, Miss Granger."

"The side effects of an overdose of the Religo Foras potion can be catatonic," she said, sounding as usual as though she had swallowed the textbook.  "While an overdose of a weak version result in prolonged sluggishness and frequent fainting spells, too much of a very strong potion may engender something so grave as a coma."

"Thank you," Snape said quickly, all but cutting her off.  "When done correctly, this potion is safe and very useful around O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. time.  Now, I will pair you up…"

"Hermione, can't we add the mulberry root yet?" Ron whined, looking extremely bored.  "I had so much fun crushing it."

Hermione glared at him.  Adjusting her dragon-hide gloves, she moved the tiny vial of Bottled Mandrake Cry further out of the way.  "Not yet, Ron," she said, "and I'd really appreciate if you'd stop asking me every three seconds.  This has to sit for at least another ten minutes."

"I hate Potions," he groaned.  "All the precise measurements and waiting around…people who take Potions seriously must really have no life at all."

Hermione blanched; just as Ron was saying that, Professor Snape walked by.

"You are absolutely correct, Weasley," he said icily, watching Ron with contempt over his hooked nose.  "No life at all.  Ten points from Gryffindor."

"He's just angry because he knows it's true!" Ron hissed. 

Hermione glanced up at him, a sour expression on her face, and asked politely, "Ron, can you please measure out four milligrams of the crushed mulberry root you so nicely pretended was Draco's head earlier?"

Ron grinned sheepishly.  "Right-o."

Hermione looked three tables over, where a blonde boy and a dark-haired boy of the same height stood, seemingly arguing.  Draco and Harry.  Why did Snape pair them together, while she was stuck with Mr. Impatient Knickers?  Of course, neither of them seemed all that pleased to be working with the other, but that was beside the point. 

She bit her lip and turned back to Ron, just in time to work herself up into hysterics because he had measured in centigrams instead.

"Potter, could you take any longer?" Draco drawled, hoisting himself up onto the stone counter.  "Honestly, I think my youngest grandchild just died."

"I want to get this right," Harry said through clenched teeth, carefully tapping the sieve holding the chopped chamomile buds and various other herbs into their cauldron.  "Maybe this isn't something you have to worry about, but failing Potions has never been a goal of mine."

The blonde examined his perfectly manicured fingernails.  "Don't get your knickers in a twist," he said in a bored tone.  "You're just mad because you wanted to work with Granger."

"No, Malfoy, that's you," Harry said bitterly, giving the sieve one last tap.  "But who wouldn't want to work with her—she's cleverer than all of us combined."

"Are you sure that's the only reason?" Draco asked in a low voice.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked awkwardly, ungracefully dropping one of his thick dragon-hide gloves.

The Slytherin smoothed his white-blonde hair back.  "Don't think I don't see you looking at her," he said nonchalantly, knowing full well that he was, metaphorically speaking, poking the other boy's most vulnerable spot with a pointy, filthy stick.  "In class, at mealtimes, Merlin only knows what you do in the privacy of your own common room…it's rather disgusting, actually.  What happened to that other girl, anyway?  The Asian one, the brainy Ravenclaw…Mo, I think her name is?  Got sick of her?"

Harry clenched his fists.  "What happened between me and Cho is none of your business, _Malfoy_," he spat.  "I'd like to keep it that way.  And besides, there is nothing like that between me and Hermione…we're just friends."

"Are you," Draco murmured thoughtfully.  It wasn't a question.  He was quite enjoying this, getting a rise out of Harry.  He always did.  Call it a fragile male ego, but in truth Draco _had_ seen Harry looking at Hermione, and it made him nervous as all hell.

"Yes," Harry said icily.  After a moments' thought he added, "oh, and don't think I don't see _you_ looking at her, too.  I wouldn't bother.  She'd never go for you…she's really not into the manipulative, insecure, evil type."

Draco flashed a smile, albeit false, revealing perfect, white teeth.  "Don't forget charming," he said. 

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again several times before surrendering himself to the fact that he really didn't have anything to say.  "Shut it, Malfoy," he grumbled.

Draco snickered.  "I see your studies of the Big Book of Bad Insults are coming along nicely," he commented.

Harry, still at a loss for anything to say, elbowed the other boy sharply, which ended up being a huge mistake, because the bottle of Extract of Flobberworm Draco had been holding was knocked out of his hands and shattered on the floor, leaving nothing but a pile of pale green, steaming liquid.

Snape turned as the first shard of glass hit the floor, looking positively livid.  "POTTER!"    

"It wasn't me!" Harry protested.

"Yes it was," Draco said maliciously.  "You pushed me!"

"I don't want to hear it," the Professor snapped.  "Detention, both of you.  And twenty points each from Slytherin and Gryffindor.  Now clean up this mess at once and we'll see what we can do about all this."

"Alright," the boys grumbled simultaneously, both looking extremely downtrodden.

"Just for the record," Draco said as he and Harry scrubbed at the sticky green mess, "Hermione was rooting for _me._"

"Oh, stuff it, Malfoy," Harry said exasperatedly, although doubtful as he was, he felt a twinge of jealousy at Draco's words.  "You have no idea about anything; you didn't look at her once."

"That's what you think," the blonde said smugly.  Harry didn't say anything; he just continued to clean.  After a few minutes, he looked over at Hermione.

She was looking at Draco.

Later that night in the common room, Harry approached Hermione (who was very busy doing her Charms homework, but never mind that) quite nervously.

"Uh…hey there, Hermione," he said awkwardly.  "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Hermione looked up and set her quill down.  "Oh, of course, Harry.  What's on your mind?"

"Do you have a thing for Malfoy?" Harry asked without preamble. 

Hermione gave him a look that could have either said 'what in the hell are you _talking_ about?' or 'that was completely unexpected and uncalled for' and replied, "What would make you think that?"

"I dunno," he mumbled.  "Cause you look at him and stuff.  And you guys are friends now…I just though maybe…"

"You thought wrong," she said impatiently.  "Harry, we've already been through this.  He and I are _just friends_.  How many more times are we going to have to have this conversation before you understand that I'm not about to run off with him?"

"None," he said, sounding slightly defensive.  "I just wanted to make sure."

"Nothing's changed in the past few days," she assured him, hating herself every second for having to lie to her Harry.

"If things do change, will you let me know?"

Hermione bit her lip and exhaled before answering, "I'd like to."


	11. A Surprising Evening

**Author's Note:**** This chapter is short, but filled to the brim with Draco/Hermione action…in fact, that's most of what it is.  It does nothing whatsoever to advance the story; it's just a nice little semi-smut piece.  Thanks again, as always, for all your lovely reviews, and keep the feedback coming my way!  I really appreciate it; you guys are all wonderful!                 xxx:Anya:xxx  **

**Chapter Eleven**

**A Surprising Evening**

****

"I hate having to lie to my friends for you," Hermione admitted to Draco the next night in the Prefects' Bath. 

"Your point being…" he said, turning on a water faucet for a hot bath.

"Nothing, I'm just saying, I hate having to lie to them," she mumbled. 

"Is it worth it?" Draco asked, turning around to face her.

"What?"

"Me…is keeping our relationship going worth lying to your friends for?" he wondered. 

Hermione bit her lip upon realizing he'd just become tense and nervous at the thought of possibly losing her and replied, "Of course you're worth it, that's not what I'm saying at all.  I've just never really kept anything from Harry and Ron and it's taking some getting used to."

"Oh.  Does this help?" he wondered as he leaned in to kiss her, the bare skin of his torso lightly brushing across her body, making her tingle.

"I'll say," she breathed when they broke apart.  "Um, Draco?" she asked, daintily crossing her legs and smoothing out her skirt.  "Do you want me to leave when your bath is drawn?"

He glanced at her, eyebrow raised.  "Do you want to leave?"

"Well—"

"Because if you don't want to leave," he continued, "You don't have to.  This tub is certainly big enough for two, comfortably."

"Are you implying that—"

"Yes."

She bit back a grin.  "Alright, then.  I accept."

The next thing she knew, Hermione was nervously stepping into Draco's bathtub in only her undergarments.  The water was red, lightly bubbling, and quite literally sparkling.  It felt warm and milky to the touch, teasing and caressing her bare skin. 

"You can't be serious," Draco said.  "You can take off your underwear, you know, a) you're beautiful, and b) I've more or less seen you before."

"Thank you, but I'm fine," she said politely.  "Are you—?"

He took her hand under the water and led it across his lower body.  "This is a bath, after all."

Her eyes widened.  "So…how are you doing lately?" she asked awkwardly, fighting down a blush. 

Draco laughed and let go of her hand.  "Wonderful, now," he murmured.  He kissed her gently, and her knees instantly turned to jelly.  She melted against his body, throwing her arms around his neck and letting him fully undress her. 

He kissed her thoroughly, in every hiding place, every crevasse her body tried to conceal from him.  Soft air bubbles from his nose tickled her skin, making her feel like she'd never felt before, as he kissed the parts of her that were underwater until she was nearly blinded by the pleasure of it all. 

As he did this, he gently guided her hands where he knew they'd never gone before, followed later by her inquisitive mouth; he was indescribably pleased with the results, and for once neither of them thought about anything; they just _were_. 

Hermione didn't know how she found the strength or willpower to make him stop once they got even closer to what would certainly have followed had she not asked him to. 

"Not yet," she whispered roughly, holding his hands in hers lest he try to tempt her again.  She knew she wouldn't be able to object a second time. 

For the next few minutes, only their mouths touched, which was glorious and beautiful in and of itself, as always.  Then, she gave up on trying to hold his hands back, but only after he promised not to put them anywhere he wouldn't if others were present.    

"Aren't you glad I asked you to join me?" Draco asked contentedly, softly stroking her shoulder as she lay in his arms.

"Mm," she murmured.  "You always have such good ideas."

"Don't I know it," he said playfully.  "I'm brilliant.  They should make a bank holiday out of my name, give me some sort of title—preferably God, but the King of Everything would do nicely as well."

Despite herself, Hermione laughed.  "How about Hermione's Boyfriend?" she asked boldly.  "Does that work?" 

Before he could answer, however, a morose, whining voice sounded from one of the nearby bathtubs.  "You two disgust me," it said.  "Can't the carnal behavior go on inside your own homes?"

Hermione looked over in shock.  "Moaning Myrtle," she groaned.  "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" she asked dramatically, clearly offended.  "What am I _doing_ here?  Why, I was _killed_ here in this castle, as a matter of fact, and am now subject to haunt its many toilets forever!"

Draco rolled his eyes, but Hermione clapped a hand over his mouth before he could say anything rude.  "I know why you're _here_, I just want to know…why now, why the Prefect's Bath?"

"I felt like it," Myrtle replied indignantly.  Her face broke out into a wild grin as she said, "I can't _wait_ until Harry Potter comes in here!  He fancies you, you know, and oh, the look on his face when I tell him you're off cavorting with his worst school enemy will be _priceless_!"   


	12. The Tides, They Change Too Quickly

**Author's Note: **This is quite possibly the last update you'll have from me for at least four weeks, as I am going away on Saturday until at least the end of July. Don't hold me to that, though, because there's still the chance that I will be able to write and update. This is just a preliminary warning. If I don't talk to any of you or update, however, have a great summer! xxx Anya xxx

**Chapter Twelve**

**The Tides, They Change Too Quickly**

****

Hermione stared at Myrtle blankly. "You wouldn't."

"He _fancies_ you?" Draco roared. "Potter _fancies _you?"

"You knew this," Hermione reminded him, before turning back to Myrtle. "Why on earth would you do a thing like that? I have enough going on without you butting in everywhere you shouldn't!"

"But I am ever so _bored_," the ghost simpered.

"So you set out to ruin friendships?" Hermione snapped. A wounded expression briefly crossed Myrtle's transparent face. At this, Hermione softened, adding, "Please don't tell Harry…I'm begging you. I don't usually like to beg people."

Myrtle looked thoughtful. "What'll I get out of it?"

"What?"

"What'll I get out of it?" she repeated. "If I'm going to keep your—" she looked from Draco to Hermione, a questioning, rather disgusted look upon her face, "—_relationship _a secret, I need to benefit from it. Even Witch Weekly would pay good money for an exposé on such a scandalous affair as this."

"What do you need money for? You're a ghost!" Draco said exasperatedly.

"Oh yes, bring that up, why don't you," Myrtle said, sounding and looking very hurt. "Well if you're not going to be cooperative, I guess I'll just wait until Harry—"

Hermione, who knew that Ron had revealed the password to the Prefect's Bath to Harry and that Harry preferred to use it over the regular bathroom, looked slightly panicky. "We're being very cooperative!" she protested. "Please…I—_we_—will do anything. What is it that you want in exchange for this secret kept?"

Myrtle raised an eyebrow. "Well, now that you mention it…"

She beckoned Hermione and whispered something in her ear, occasionally looking over at Draco, who was examining his perfectly manicured fingernails and looking extremely bored.

A few minutes later, Hermione approached Draco, looking hopeful and slightly apprehensive. She asked, "How far would you go to keep this?"

"I cannot believe you are making me be Moaning Myrtle's slave for a day," Draco muttered as they exited the Prefect's Bath a little while later.

"It's only one day," Hermione said, trying to sound bright. "And it'll be worth it."

"Oh yeah?" he said. "What do I get?"

"Good God, people are selfish lately!" Hermione said in something of a huff. "Besides the preservation of our relationship, what _do _you want?"

"I am a simple specimen," Draco said pompously, "and I want what any guy wants."

"Draco…" she moaned. "Are you saying that if I don't sleep with you, you won't save our relationship? I'm only sex to you?"

"When you put it like that, you make it sound like a bad thing," he said innocently, pouting.

Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it several times before letting out a growl of frustration and storming away.

"Hermione!" he called, running after her, "I was only joking! You are definitely not only sex to me! I mean it! Herm—oh, no, don't throw—Hermione!"

Before long, and after Hermione let Draco explain to her that he really _was_ joking, they came to the mutual agreement that he would be Myrtle's slave for one day without complaint and that in return, Hermione might be able to give him a little treat.

Upon hearing the last bit, Draco was so happy he nearly snogged her right in the middle of the hallway, but he remembered that their relationship was indeed private, as in not to be shared with anyone except for the two people involved (Draco hoped there would someday be a third, preferably female, but as of then, his prospects at ever achieving this seemed very, very bleak), and took her into a nearby empty classroom instead.

"What do you think Myrtle's going to make me do?" Draco wondered as they exited the room together (both looking more than a little disheveled).

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I mean, honestly, Draco, she's a ghost. How much can she, well, do?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing," she giggled, "All I meant was that she doesn't exactly have a body, so you can't massage her, or bring her food or anything."

"True," he admitted.

"I think she just wants the satisfaction of having someone serve her all day," Hermione concluded.

"It is a nice feeling," Draco said wistfully. "Hey, speaking of servants…next holiday, you should come to the Manor with me."

Hermione blanched. "You want _me_ to come to _Malfoy Manor_?" she asked in disbelief. "Are you out of your mind?"

"It would be nice," he protested. "My father's dead, which means my mother is less of a bitch, and it might look dark and gloomy and make you want to commit suicide, but it's really quite gorgeous once you get used to it."

She bit her lip. "I don't know, Draco," she said skeptically. "Bringing someone like me—a Muggle-born—into Malfoy Manor seems like a bad idea. And even if that's not an issue, I know from…well, a friend's recent past experience that holidays with your significant other's family don't always turn out so well."

Draco raised his eyebrows at this, but said nothing, for once. "It's not my family, it's me and my mother," he pointed out. "And the Manor is so big that I doubt we'll even _see _her, except at mealtimes. And I promise she's not so bad. We really haven't been affiliated with that much Dark Magic since Father died."

"I'll have to think on it, okay?" Hermione said. "I'm not saying yes…but I'm not saying no, either."

"Fair enough," Draco said as they approached the Fat Lady. "Well, here we are."

"Thanks for walking me," she said sweetly, getting on tiptoe to kiss his smooth cheek.

"Anytime," he replied. "I'm glad you trusted me enough to show me where this place is."

She smiled and held the silence between them for a moment. "I trust you, Draco," she said softly. "Now and always."

To hear that from Hermione made Draco feel warm inside like he'd rarely, if ever, felt before in his life. He couldn't contain himself anymore, and he kissed her square on the mouth, bending her backwards like the movie stars did in old films.

It was perfect, Draco thought as he walked back toward the Slytherin dungeons, an odd spring in his step. Perhaps too perfect. It made Draco uneasy to think that this could be the calm before the storm.

"Where were you?" Ron asked suspiciously when Hermione plopped down near him and Harry on her favorite chair in the common room.

"Library," she replied absentmindedly. Twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, her thoughts turned to the prospect of spending spring holiday with Draco. She bit her lip to hold back a smile, trying very hard not to giggle.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. Since when had Hermione begun acting like all the other girls they knew?

"No you weren't," Harry said. "I had to stop into the library to get a book and I looked for you, and you weren't at your usual table."

"I was probably browsing through the shelves, then," she said tersely. "What are you getting at, Harry?"

"Nothing, just…"

"Just _what_, Harry?"

"Well, if you weren't in the library and you weren't in the common room, where would you be?"

"Off with Malfoy," Ron muttered under his breath.

Hermione heard him, though, and shot him a look like daggers. "I was _not _with Dra—with Malfoy," she protested hotly. "I was in the library. Why would I lie to you?"

Both Harry and Ron opened their mouths to say something several times, but neither of them spoke.

"Honestly," she snapped, standing up. "With you two suspecting me of shagging Malfoy every sixth second, how could the three of us possibly…_what_, Ron?"

Ron had actually raised his hand. "Why every sixth second?" he asked timidly.

She let out an exasperated groan. "It's just an expression, Ron. It doesn't mean anything. Like my friendship with Malfoy, which is _just_ a friendship, and nothing more. Stop looking at me like that, and give me one good reason why I would lie to you."

"Hermione, we're just looking out for you," Harry said kindly. "We know what Malfoy's like, and we don't want you to get hurt."

Hermione stopped huffing about long enough to calm down and smile at Harry. "You're right," she said, sitting back down. "I'm overreacting. I'm sorry for it…it just bothers me that it seems like you two don't trust me lately."

"Oh, we trust you," Ron said. "We just don't trust him."

The next few days passed uneventfully, with the only thing either Hermione or Draco felt was worth speaking about (even if it was only to each other) that they set a date for Draco to be Myrtle's slave. It was to be that Saturday, and he would be sacrificing a trip to Hogsmeade, but Hermione promised to bring him loads of sweets from Honeyduke's and an even sweeter treat later that night.

On that note, she was very conflicted because she was presented with the choice to lose her virginity. On the one hand, she could find other ways to entertain Draco, which would keep him very happy, but on the other hand, she wasn't sure if she was really ready.

She didn't even know if she was in love with him. She didn't think so, and to be quite honest, she didn't really want to be. Yes, she loved being with him, and he was smart, as well as handsome and sexy, and he treated her well enough, but then at the same time, he was extremely sarcastic and often rude, and then there was the fact that he was still a Malfoy, despite the new side she'd discovered he had, and that in and of itself was somewhat dangerous. Surely there was more to love than enjoying spending time with the other person and to think that they were attractive.

Hermione had always imagined love to be an all-encompassing sort of thing, where there was no question as to whether she would die for her love and where he was someone she simply could not live without. She imagined love to be a combination of courting and unadulterated passion that couldn't ever be fully described in words.

She didn't think she had that with Malfoy. She didn't think it was possible to feel it at the tender age of sixteen.

Thoughts such as these were the reason Hermione could not sleep at night, and she wished they would go away. One thing she would not admit was that the prospect of love scared her out of her wits. She was Hermione Granger, and she could handle anything.

Well, that's what she told herself, anyway.


	13. Days Full of Drama, Nights Full of Sorro...

**Author's Note:** I feel like I should put some sort of warning at the beginning of this chapter, even though I have rated it appropriately, as this is the most sexually explicit chapter of this story. Well, my saying that is a warning, of sorts. Also, there may be mentions/implications of other ships, but this is strictly a Draco/Hermione story and I plan on keeping it that way. Oh, and my little (0)'s are just spacers, as nothing else seems to work anymore. Other than that, all I can say about this chapter is to hang tight. This ride's getting a little bumpy. Hope everyone's having a good summer! --Anya, xoxo

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Days Full of Drama, Nights Full of Sorrow**

The following night in the library, Hermione was startled out of her studious daze by male hands hugging her around her shoulders, but for once they weren't Draco's; they were Harry's.

"What are you doing here?" she asked quietly, glad to see him, as always.

He, on the other hand, didn't look quite as pleased, but for some reason Hermione didn't think it had anything to do with her. "I _did_ come here to study, being as that's what you usually do in a library, unless I'm wrong. But just as I sat down with my book, I saw Cho and Roger Davies—can you believe she's with him _again_—going at it like two...I don't even know what's! Anyway, after seeing that, I couldn't concentrate anymore."

Hermione took his hand, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb. "I'm so sorry you had to see that," she said sympathetically. "So it's really over between you and her?"

"It's been over," Harry sighed. "Fucking Christmas ruined everything."

She looked at him concernedly. She didn't want to push him into telling her anything he wasn't comfortable with, and yet... "Harry, are you ever going to tell me what happened?"

He sighed again. "I guess it doesn't matter now," he said sadly. "If you really want to know, I suppose I could—"

"Only if you want to," she said quickly.

"Well actually, it couldn't hurt," he said thoughtfully, considering.

She smiled a tiny smile. "Let's go somewhere more comfortable, then," she said softly. Taking his hand, she led him to an area of the library even more concealed and secluded than where she normally studied. Hardly anyone ever came back here, which was odd, considering it was the only part of the library with couches and armchairs comfortable enough to rival those in the Gryffindor common room. He sat down first, and motioned for her to join him on the couch.

"Thank you," she said, automatically curling up next to him. The warmth and familiarity of Harry's arm as it snaked around her shoulders was so comforting; she snuggled in closer.

He looked down at her, a serious expression on his striking face. "I haven't even told Ron yet. About…what I'm about to tell you, that is."

"I'm flattered," she said sincerely, tilting her head to get a better look at him. Harry. Her Harry.

She wanted to love him so much, to save herself the pain that she would inevitably someday have to go through from involving herself with Draco, wonderful as he'd been lately, but somehow she couldn't. She did love Harry, but he didn't fill her with the same excitement and passion as Draco did, even when he was being an insufferable twot. And she would always feel guilty, like she had cheated him, like he was second best, if the only reason she loved him was because she was afraid that Draco would hurt her. Harry didn't deserve that.

When he didn't say anything, she prompted, "So, this has to do with Christmas."

"Yes," Harry said tentatively.

"And why you and Cho stopped ogling each other when you thought no one else was looking?" Hermione added. "Which does make sense, considering you're not together anymore."

"Perhaps it pertains to that just a little…"

"And why you don't stalk each other anymore, and why every time either of you gets so much as a glimpse of the other you both look like you want to start crying and vomiting simultaneously?" she pressed.

"How romantic, Hermione," he said dryly. He looked at her questioningly. "You really notice all that?"

"I notice everything," she said in a soft voice, and for some reason those simple words caused Harry to frown in thought. "Now please, proceed."

"Well, to make a long story short," Harry began rather unsurely, "Spending two weeks entirely inseparably with Cho turned out not to be the best idea. We, er, made some advances in our relationship, which in retrospect I think may have been done too much out of the heat of the moment and less out of—"

"Did you do what I think you're telling me you did?" Hermione asked, eyes wide. He nodded apprehensively, raking a nervous hand through his hair in that way that used to drive her absolutely wild when they were first years (it was a short-lived crush, but a crush nonetheless), and suddenly she felt a little queasy. She pushed the feeling down and mustered up enough voice to squeak out, "Go on."

"Well, after the fact, we started arguing a lot," Harry continued, "and the arguments never lasted longer than a few minutes but it was just the constant bickering that drove me and her both crazy…kind of like how Percy and Fred and George are, do you know what I mean? So anyway, in the heat of one really bad row Cho shouted, out of _nowhere_, I might add, 'You know what, Harry James Potter? I LOVE YOU!' and then turned really red."

Now Hermione felt _really_ queasy. "Did you…say it back?" she asked in a small voice.

"Doubtlessly my telling you all of this will end up being some horrible mistake," Harry sighed glumly. "But that's what's been the issue. I couldn't. I wanted to, I think…but my mouth was not producing any sound. She kept looking at me really expectantly and then finally she burst into tears and stormed out of the room. We've since talked it over as much as we could, and we've been trying, but a couple weeks ago she told me she couldn't do it anymore and has obviously since then found solace in Roger Davies. Again. There was all that, and plus, her entire family hated me. It was almost worse than that week with Aunt Marge right before third year, because it was two weeks and there were fifteen of them. I didn't have a moment's peace."

"Oh, Harry," she sighed, "I'm so sorry to hear that." She reached up and hugged her oldest, dearest friend around the neck for what seemed like an eternity. "Listen, I know it hurts now, but it isn't the end of the world. It feels like it…I know it feels like it. But you've been so brave, and in time this too shall pass. Something better will definitely come along; you're one of the best people I know and you deserve to be happy in every way."

The corners of his mouth twitched up. "Thanks, Hermione," he said, hugging her back. "It means a lot to hear you say that."

"I mean it all," she whispered. "I wish there was some way I could help you."

He shrugged. "Just you being here is enough. And besides," he added wryly, "Think of everything I've had to go through in my life, and I'm falling apart over a girl? I just need a little perspective, is all."

"Matters of the heart are always different," she said, her eyes wide. "And they always hurt more."

Harry's face darkened. "More than my parents being killed? More than my godfather—the only family I had left—being murdered right in front of me? I feel _horrible_ that I'm taking a breakup from a teenage relationship so badly."

For once, Hermione didn't know what to say. "Sirius wasn't the _only _family you had left," she said slowly, trying not to cry at the sound of Sirius's name—she had loved him, too. "You still have me, and Ron, and Hagrid, and all the Weasleys…there will always be people watching out for you, Harry, and being there fore you, and loving you—that's family."

"That's also not the point," Harry sighed. "No offense, but the fact that I do have other people in my life who care about me—which I knew already, Hermione—isn't quite what the doctor ordered to make me feel any better about this."

"I'm trying, Harry," she said, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

His face softened as he looked at her. He could never be angry with Hermione. "I know," he said quietly. "Thank you for that."

"Thank _you_ for finally telling me," she replied. "I know it hurts, but don't you feel better just getting it off your chest?"

"Yeah," he said, trying a smile. He pulled her into an embrace, leaving both of them feeling more comfortable and safe than ever. After a moment, he added, "Don't…don't tell anyone, okay? If anyone else ever finds out, I want to be the one to tell them about it."

"I'd never tell," she said vehemently, pulling away from him to look him straight in the eyes. With a sigh, she went on, "Merlin knows I'm good at keeping secrets."

(0)

"I saw you with Potter in the library yesterday," Draco said without preamble, coming into step with Hermione after Advanced Transfiguration the next day.

Hermione glanced at him with an eyebrow raised. He'd sounded a little too jealous for her liking. "Why do you have a problem with this?" she asked cautiously.

He rolled his eyes. "I _don't_," he said, sounding no older than eight. "I just—"

"Good," she said firmly. "Because Harry is my best friend and I won't be having you or anyone else trying to tell me I can't be with him."

They walked on in silence, neither one wanting to apologize for being short with the other.

"So," Hermione said finally, "tomorrow is Saturday. Moaning Myrtle day."

Draco looked confused for a moment. "Oh, yes. So it is."

She stopped walking and looked at him squarely. "You _are_ still planning on fulfilling your end of the bargain, aren't you? Because if you don't—"

He silenced her with a long finger to her lips. "I know," he said, suddenly sounding very seductive. Hermione wanted to bite his finger, but not in a temptress sort of way. She absolutely hated it when he turned on a dime like this. "Are you still planning on fulfilling _your _end of the bargain? You do remember you promised me a…surprise. Something you said I'm sure to love."

She sighed. "I guess that all depends on how tomorrow goes, now doesn't it?"

He cocked his head to one side. "Are you mad at me?" he murmured, stroking her cheek.

"No," she protested, moving away from his gentle hand. She wasn't, either, it was just with her uncertainty about love from the other day (which she was still thinking about) and now everything going on with Harry, she was admittedly a bit preoccupied. "I just have a lot on my mind, is all."

"Anything I can do to help?"

If they had been anywhere but a public Hogwarts corridor, Hermione was sure he would have been snogging her neck or something of that sort.

A small smile brushed her lips. The day was still young, and she could do with a distraction. "Actually," she said softly, "I do believe there might be. Come with me, and I'll show you exactly what needs to be fixed."

Hermione led him to the nearest broom closet she could find and didn't hesitate even slightly when he began kissing her fervently, starting off heavier than they ever had before. After a quick but effective Security Charm, Draco picked her up and plopped her down onto a waist-height cabinet, using his hands on her middle as an excuse to shed her of her blouse.

Within minutes, both of them were completely undressed, save for Draco's socks (he didn't want his feet touching the broom closet floor), taking every sort of advantage of each others' naked bodies. Now that Hermione had a little practice with these sorts of things, on both ends of the spectrum, she and Draco were able to experience pleasures even greater than those they had that time in the bath, which was something she didn't even know was possible.

She thrust her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder, panting from the orgasm he had just given her with his tongue. He looked at her, a wicked glint in his eye, and began to move his hard member toward her opening.

"Draco, stop," she whispered. When he didn't respond, she said it louder, pushing him away from her small body.

"Come on, Hermione, that's the second time you've said no," he whined.

She bit her lip, making a decision very fast. "D-don't you want your present to be special tomorrow night?" she said, knowing she sounded very unsure of herself.

Draco, however, seemed to take no note of this. "Really?" he said, smiling. "Well, then, I don't even mind that you said no. Again."

She smiled feebly and kissed him. "We should be getting back soon," she said, beginning to re-dress herself and wondering if she'd made the right decision.

_If I didn't,_ she thought uneasily, _I could tell him. Right?_

(0)

"Ron, could you excuse us, please?" Hermione said when she got back to the common room. "I need to talk to Harry about something private."

"Anything you can say to Harry, you can say to me," Ron said jovially, not really paying attention as his queen was storming Harry's bishop in their chess game.

Harry, however, looked up and saw the pleading in Hermione's eyes. "Ron, I think you'd better go for a few minutes," he said, nudging his friend's elbow. "I'll talk to you later, alright?"

Ron looked hurt at first, but then seemed to decide he didn't really care. "Alright," he said, and walked off.

"What are you going to tell him?" Hermione asked somewhat nervously as they headed up to Hermione's bedroom (the only place they could get some privacy, as Lavender and Parvati were always out boy-scouting or some such). "If he asks you later, that is."

Harry ran a hand over his hair. "I don't know," he said. "I don't even know what this is about, so at least give me time to make something believable up."

Hermione nodded as they both took a seat on her bed. After a few moments of complete silence, Harry prompted, "So…what is it you needed to get rid of Ron for to tell me?"

Even with everything else going on with him, Harry still hoped Hermione was about to confess that she was in love with him. Or that she thought she'd found The One but didn't know if she could be with him because of their long history and close friendship, in which case he'd assure her that while friendship was important, love was of equal or even greater importance and so _of course_ they could be together. But that wasn't quite what Hermione had in mind.

"Oh," she said anxiously, trying to figure out in her head how to word what she wanted to say. "Right. Well…you're good with decision-making, right Harry?"

He nodded. This was it…

"Um, I need your advice. You see, the thing is…" she took a breath and, chickening out as she felt nothing she said would sound right, said, "How should I get my hair cut when we go to Hogsmeade tomorrow? It's gotten so out of hand, you see, and I just can't deal with it anymore. I'm thinking of shaving my head."

He raised an eyebrow. "You have got to be kidding me. Hermione, you can tell me anything. Go on, I'm not going to judge you. But for what it's worth, you'd look awful with a shaved head."

She raised her lips in what was supposed to be a smile. "I do need your advice, though. I can't exactly give you all the details—I'll tell you in time, Harry, but this is not the right one—but I just want to know something. First of all, how do you know if you've made the right decision?"

Harry frowned. "If you're thinking about it so much, as you seem to be doing, then it probably isn't the right one."

She bit her lip. "Oh. Okay. So then, how would you go about telling the person who was involved in this decision that you made a mistake and it's the wrong one?"

"Will this person be upset if you tell them straight out that you made the wrong decision?"

"Probably. Especially since it's kind of personal and to this person it seems like the natural way to go. I don't want to hurt anyone, Harry."

He scratched his head, eyebrows raised, and took a big breath. If she was indeed talking about him, he didn't want to know anymore. "Of course you don't," he said comfortingly, rubbing her arm. "You're so clever, Hermione. You just have to figure out the right way to word it. I know you'll be able to do whatever it is you have to do."

"Thank you so much," she said, looking up at him with large eyes. What happened next was definitely not part of Hermione's plan, but it somehow ended up that her lips were on Harry's. She took them away when she realized what she'd done and blushed furiously. She didn't want to admit that she _liked_ kissing Harry. She was only supposed to like kissing Draco.

Harry clenched his jaw, wanting both to slap her for teasing him like that and sweep her back into his arms, kissing and everything else until long into the night.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered, unable to meet his gaze. "I don't know what made me do that."

"Don't be sorry," Harry said. "Just tell me we'll be able to do that again sometime."

Her eyes filled with tears. "I can't," she said, her voice practically inaudible. "I just can't, Harry, I'm sorry."

"Is that what your decision was about?" he asked in a low voice, moving away from her on the bed.

"No," she said, her voice cracking from her tears.

"Well…is there someone else, then?"

Hermione buried her face in her pillow, not able to say yes, but not wanting to lie anymore.

He stood up and crossed the floor to the door. "I love you, Hermione," he said. At these words, she looked up and watched him speak, as she was unable to do so herself. "You know that. But I'm not going to wait for you anymore. After I walk out of this room, we are strictly friends, unless you stop me. I mean it, though…I can't wait for you if you're never going to be ready, and now is as good a time as any to stop. So…friends, okay?"

He turned to leave, hoping and wishing so hard that Hermione would do something or say anything to make him change his mind. But she didn't, and he walked out, knowing any possibility of a romance between them was stopped at his own hand.

(0)

After she'd stopped mourning the death of a romance that never was, Hermione went to find Draco to tell him she still wasn't ready to give up what was left of her innocence.

After confirming with Blaise Zabini, whose gaze kept drifting from Hermione's face to the rise in her blouse, that Draco was not in the common room, she was able to search the rest of Hogwarts. She found him heading toward the Quidditch pitch for some solo practice.

"Draco," she called. "Draco, stop, I need to talk to you."

He turned around, looking puzzled, and ran to Hermione. "What's so important?" he asked.

She turned around. "You're busy. I'd better go."

He grabbed her arm. "Now you wait a minute," he said, "What is it you want? You didn't come find me for no reason."

She bit her lip, cracking her knuckles apprehensively. "You're right. I didn't. Well, it's about tomorrow," she began.

He raised an eyebrow. He had a feeling he knew what this was about, now, and he was disappointed, but not at all surprised. "Tomorrow? Have you changed your mind, then?"

She looked at him with beseeching eyes. "Yes," she whispered. "I just don't think I'm ready, is all. I'll still do whatever else you want me to do—"

His eyes flashed. "You aren't ready, are you." It was not a question.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded. "Are you angry? It'll happen, Draco, just not tomorrow."

He took a breath before smiling. Of course he was angry—disappointed was more like it, really—but acting cross with Hermione now was not going to do any good. "It's fine," he said reassuringly. "Really." He kissed the top of her head.

She smiled a small smile. "Thank you for understanding," she said gratefully. "I'll see you tomorrow evening, alright?"

"Bye," he waved, plans formulating as to exactly how he was going to get her back. No one says no to a Malfoy.

(0)

Harry, Ron, and Hermione began the walk up to the Gryffindor common room the next night feeling very satisfied indeed from their trip to Hogsmeade. Their bellies were full and warm from butterbeer and they had bags and bags of candy from Honeyduke's and all sorts of tricks and toys from Zonko's. There had been a surprisingly small amount of tension between Harry and Hermione, as both of them just wanted to have a good time and pretty much forget about the day before.

Draco stopped the three of them in the hallway, his eyes glinting. Hermione ran a hand through her hair (which she had actually decided to cut, into a flattering yet sensible bobbed style that had surprised everyone except Harry and, seemingly, Draco) and waited for him to speak. She was actually looking forward to the night's future events, now.

"As usual, there is absolutely no use for Weasley," he said, looking bored. "But Potter and Granger, you're wanted on the first floor, but for different reasons. Potter I have no damn clue about, but Granger, you're to come with me—Professor Snape wants to see you and he has asked for me to personally escort you."

Hermione tried not to smile as she thought back on the days when she hated him. She'd have been giving him a look much like the ones Harry and Ron were giving him right now.

As soon as they got downstairs, Draco pulled Hermione into a dark corner and began kissing her as a bewildered Harry looked around for where he was needed.

"How'd it go today?" Hermione wondered, but Draco only responded that he liked her hair now that it didn't get in the way anymore and continued snogging her all over.

About five minutes later, Draco pulled back. "Come with me for a minute?" he asked, although he didn't specify where or why.

"Sure," Hermione replied, slightly taken aback by his vagueness but not seeing any reason to give it a second thought.

He took her hand and led her toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but stopped when a furious looking Harry stopped them.

"I don't even know where to begin," he hissed at Hermione, and stormed away upstairs.


End file.
